Ultimate
by Spinsomnia
Summary: It's sixth year and Draco Malfoy has a secret. No one believes Harry when he insists that he is up to something and a Dragon is stalking Hogwarts. When Malfoy goes missing, Harry makes a startling discovery that changes everything he thought he knew about his rival.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_The Curse_

In hindsight, perhaps stamping on Potter's face hadn't been the smartest move given how he was meant to remain inconspicuous this year.

"So much for inconspicuousness…" Draco muttered on his march back to the castle. He'd missed the carriages. No thanks to Potter. He curled his fingers around the smooth Jade pendant around his neck, breathing quickly. With any luck, his body-bind on Potter would hold until he was half-way back to London. But he also knew the conductor performed sweeping charms at the end of every journey, so he was bound to be discovered. Nonetheless, the brief release of irritation Draco had been holding onto since the day's tedious interactions with his peers had been somewhat satisfying, if stupid.

He closed his eyes, wordlessly counting back from ten. _Calm down_, he thought hard. He knew himself well enough to determine he was _not _at risk of suddenly having to bolt to the nearest hiding place and transform, but every outburst nudged him just a bit closer to the line. He couldn't risk it. Especially not this year. He'd spent the summer practicing a cool, calm mask of indifference. He was well-versed in suppressing his feelings; had been since he was thirteen and the Curse had made its first unwelcome appearance into his life, but there was no such thing as over-preparation in his family.

Hopefully now he could just go to his room and relax. Apparently the day from hell had other ideas. He was intercepted at the gate by Flitwitck and Snape. He'd always found the Charms Professor's nature overzealous and wearisome but he could really do without it today. He just wanted to go to bed.

"An inspection?" He barked, injecting as much disdain as possible into his voice. "This is ridiculous."

"It is a necessary precaution!" Flitwick squeaked, performing all manner of unnecessary spells on Draco's luggage. Snape gave him a look as if to say '_keep yourself in check.' _Great. He'd have this hook-nosed bat breathing down his neck all year as well. Flitwick's wand swayed towards Draco himself, and he frowned.

"That"- he said, pointing at Draco's neck, "What is that?"  
"What does it look like?" Draco spat. "I've been wearing it to school for years so you can't possibly have an issue now. It's only suffused with protection charms. Surely you can tell that." It wasn't a lie.

The professor tutted at Draco's tone, twirling his father's old walking stick this way and that in his hands.

Draco snatched it back. "It's just a walking stick, you idiot!"

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he turned sharply to be met with the sour, green-eyed gaze he thought he'd left body-bound on the train. Potter's unlikely hero stood next to him, a pair of obtuse goggles perched on top of her blonde head. Loony Lovegood. Of course. Draco couldn't believe he was distantly related to such an oddball. That kind of behaviour would never be tolerated in his house.

He found with dismay he couldn't even conjure the slightest amount of satisfaction at the sight of Potter's broken nose, blood spattered onto his awful muggle grey clothing. It was simply a reminder of how he'd let his temper get the better of him.

"Nice face, Potter." He managed without a jot of emotion. After a final murderous glance at the two of them, Draco gave a single flick of his wand and levitated the rest of his luggage out of the professor's keen grasp, following it with hasty steps up the dark path towards the illuminated castle ahead.

Unluckily for him, Snape caught up.

"Your decorum was foolish, Draco." He said at length, "If you continue to behave in such a manner they will notice"-

-"They won't notice shit." Draco countered, "They'll be too busy fawning over their Chosen One to notice me."

"Dumbledore will have other ideas." Said Snape, raising his voice ever so slightly. "He will want to talk to you."  
"He can talk to me as much as he wants." Draco laughed without humour, "It won't make a difference."

"Draco, your mother"-

Draco stopped in the middle of the path. His ex-potions professor's beetle-like eyes glittered in the darkness.

"My mother expects you to follow me around like a dog. I know. And I don't care. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late and I heard they're serving lamb chops for the main course."

Despite his words, he skipped dinner, opting instead for a hot shower. His peace was interrupted less than an hour later by the arrival of his roommates.

"What the fuck did you do to Potty's face?" Theodore Nott launched straight in.

"Pleasant summer then, Nott?" Draco drawled, already exhausted. He'd mercifully managed to avoid his company on the train. It seemed he was going to make up for it.

Theo snorted. "Oh come off it, Draco. So, what? You've already started?"

"Started what?" Draco ground out, making a show of folding his clothes and putting them into their correct places in the open drawers and wardrobes. Usually he'd never bother to do any of this manually, but anything to avoid Theo's childish energy. It never failed him at the start of the year. Usually Draco marvelled at it. This year he was just tired.

Blaise flopped down onto his own bed. "I'm full of beef and rice pudding, Theo. Please shut up for two whole seconds."

Draco shared his sentiments wholeheartedly.

"I'm just saying!" Theo continued, "If we're gonna go all in, we should go all in, you know? Bit miffed I wasn't invited to the Potty face-smashing party to be honest. Who's next? Please say it's the Weasel."

"It wasn't prearranged, Theo." Said Draco, hauling on his pyjamas. His limbs felt like lead. He placed a stock of vials filled with Sleeping Draught into his bedside drawer but he doubted he'd need one tonight. Even Theo's constant jabbering was already starting to become background noise. As Theo came up with worryingly advanced plans to prank the Golden Trio, Draco noticed the two empty beds at the end of the room.

"Where are Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Dunno. Anyway, so yeah like I was saying"-

-"They were called to Dumbledore's office." Said Blaise, his voice edged with knowing. Draco met his eyes, remembering Snape's warning.

"I see."

Blaise raised a brow. "Do you? Because you know you're next."

Draco groaned and tucked himself into bed, turning away from his overly-perceptive roommate.

"The old fuck doesn't have anything to say to me I don't already know." He said. It was easier to pretend nonchalance when no one could see his face. He faked a yawn. "Besides, it's not me he should be worried about. It's this joke of a school. The security is absolute bollocks. They didn't even find the Baneberry Potion I have stashed in my father's cane." These were his friends. It was okay to tell them, especially under the guise of boasting. Besides, a pinch truth helped a lie go a long way.

Theo stopped. "Why in the name of Merlin's frilly knickers have you got Baneberry Potion?"

Draco gave a long sigh. "You know what my parents are like. Constantly worried someone is after me. They forget the only people who give a shit what I do are morally constipated teachers and Potter and his band of idiots. I'll be fine."

Even without looking, he could sense Blaise and Theo sharing a look.

"You know," Blaise began slowly in a voice that implied he was about to give Draco a lecture. It wouldn't be the first time, "We didn't hear from you all summer. Even Pansy was worried."

"Really?" Said Draco, "She didn't say anything on the train."

"She wouldn't," Theo laughed, "She fancies the pants off you."

"Tell her she's barking up the wrong tree."

"Maybe _you _should tell her"-

-"That's not the point." Blaise cut in. "Everything alright, mate?"

Draco paused. These were his friends, yes, but even they didn't know his deepest secret. His darkest secret. They might think they know. They might even have guessed the Dark Lord had given him a task to complete. But they could never know the real truth. No one could. His fingers found the Jade pendant under the sheets.

"Shut up, Blaise." He said.

"Would you just"-

Draco turned in his bed to fix them both with a hard look. "You're actually pissing me off now. You're starting to sound like a bloody Hufflepuff."

Blaise, as always, was unaffected by Draco's insults. He gave him a look of equal measure, but he said nothing else.

"So if we're done? I'd really appreciate some sleep." With that, he spelled the bed curtains shut, enclosing himself in the cold comfort of darkness. He closed his eyes.

Day one was over.

Only one hundred and eighty-nine to go. One hundred and eighty-nine tedious days to complete his task.

The Curse inside him roiled, and he pushed it down. _We've made it this far_, he told it silently, _don't you dare fuck things up for me now_. But when had the beast ever been compliant?

Harry scanned the Marauder's map for the fifth time that night. By now, even Ron had noticed. Harry heard Ron mutter a spell and felt the silencing charms go up around them a second later.

"Harry, who are you looking for?" Ron asked tiredly from his bed.

Harry resolved not to answer that question. It had become increasing habit over the last couple of months to track the whereabouts of none other than Draco Malfoy throughout the castle. Harry had started to notice (he couldn't be sure _when _he'd noticed exactly) that Malfoy's little footsteps frequently disappeared off the map entirely. This was not new. Harry had seen it happen before - ever since he'd got the map from the twins in fact - but back then it had been sporadic. Harry was thrown back into those days, often nights, where he'd lie awake wondering _where on earth had Draco Malfoy got to? _Upon asking Hermione in fourth year, she'd proclaimed his father probably had special rights to see his son whenever he wished. Governors privilege, and all that. At the time, Harry had decided she was almost certainly right. Malfoy spent so much time bragging about his father that no doubt he had special permission to wander off from school and saunter off home whenever he pleased, but now the disappearances were so frequent that Harry was becoming doubtful that the reason for his absence was to make the odd moonlight flit to his Manor. Especially when most of the disappearances happened at night. Harry had concluded with complete conviction that Malfoy was a Death Eater. Ron and Hermione had been skeptical enough the first few times he'd said it. He didn't have the energy to face it again now.

"No one." Lied Harry, reluctantly shoving the map under his pillow.

Ron huffed. "Could you turn out the light, then? I can't sleep."

"Close your curtains!"  
"You know I hate sleeping with the curtains shut."

Harry couldn't dispute that. He did too. The closeness of it reminded him too much of his cupboard. He shivered involuntarily at the thought.

"Alright."

On the nights where the moon shone bright enough to project beams across his bed, Harry made do with its meagre light, but the sky was dark tonight. And Draco Malfoy was missing. Again. He sighed.

"Oi, mate?" Said Ron a moment later.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"  
Harry laughed. "You just did."

Ron's pillow hit him in the face with force. "Hey! What was that for?" He threw it back and it landed on the floor pathetically.

"Don't be sarky, I'm serious!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, go on then."

Something about the way Ron paused made Harry's stomach turn with nerves.

"Do you… you know… like someone?"  
Harry snorted. Okay. He hadn't expected that one.

"What?"  
"It's just, Hermione and me have noticed, you seem to be… a bit out of it. It's not Cho Chang again is it, Harry? Because she's a right one, her."

Harry shook his head, laughing. "You're balmy."

Ron sat up in bed to face Harry, casting a _Lumos_. "No but really though." He continued at full force, "At first we thought it was that bloody potions book and all the Half-Blood Prince business"-

-"Please stop telling me to get rid of it."-

-"but I think it's more than that. Well… Hermione does. I thought you might just have indigestion." He grinned in the dark, the _Lumos _illuminating his teeth.

"She's overthinking." Said Harry. "You both are."

Ron fell back down onto the cushions, tracing shapes of light in the air with his wand.

"Yeah, thought you might say that."

Harry frowned, humour gone. "But you believe me though, right?"

Ron hesitated a second too long. "Yeah, mate." He turned out his light.

A long silence passed between them in which both of them knew neither was sleeping. Harry's thoughts had just begun to stray to Malfoy again when Ron suddenly said,

"It's just, I thought it might be Ginny."

Harry blinked up at the dark ceiling, totally in shock. "_Ginny_?" Thank Godric for silencing charms.

"Is it really that mad?" Said Ron, "Only you got all weird when you saw Dean with her last week."

Harry slapped a hand against his forehead. "Not because I fancy her!"

"Why then?" Ron challenged.

Despite the silencing charms Harry whispered, "Because Dean is gay!"

Now it was Ron's turn to be shocked. "You… what? Dean is _gay_? Where did you get that from?"

It wasn't obvious? Harry sat up straight. "One: he used to joke about it all the time. You know, all the kissing jokes in fourth year? Two: he has no trouble hugging girls but he's really awkward around us. Three: he was all over Seamus when we got drunk at the beginning of the year"-

-"Alright, alright! Christ… I didn't notice at all."

Harry found that strange. He thought everyone knew. Which is why he'd been more than shocked to see he and Ginny together.

"So you really don't like Ginny then?"  
Harry sighed. "Of course I like her, Ron. Just not like that. Besides, she's your sister."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah. But at least I know you'd be good to her. I kept thinking it would be great if you two got married because then we'd actually be brothers."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't need to marry your sister to treat you like a brother, Ron."

"Don't get soppy or I'll have to whack you with my pillow again."

They laughed.

"Blimey, what am I gonna tell, Gin? Sorry, sis, your boyfriend is gay. I mean…"

"Yeah," Harry agreed with a long huff. "Must be hard on him too, though. If I'm right, obviously. I dunno. Maybe I made it all up."

"Nah, now that you've said it I think you might be right." Said Ron. "You are alright though, aren't you Harry? I mean…" He hesitated again, and Harry heard him inhale shakily, "this summer can't have been easy after Sirius…" Ron didn't finish the sentence. Harry didn't want him to.

A fresh stab of pain lanced through him and he fisted his hands in the sheets, curling into a ball. The hollow cave in his chest cried out and the flash of camera bulbs lit up behind his eyelids, as vivid as they were the night reporters had captured his grief and plastered it all over the papers.

"I'm fine." He said quietly, knowing he sounded anything but fine. "Night, Ron."

"... Night, Harry." The regret in Ron's voice echoed long after they'd said goodnight to each other.

The issue of 12 Grimmauld Place loomed over Harry's psyche like a thunder cloud. Sirius had left Harry absolutely everything. Even the Order hadn't got a say in what they did with the place. Of course Harry said they could have it and use it at their leisure. But by next year, it would be time to leave Hogwarts, and Harry would need a place to live. That's if he made it that far.

The threat of the war was more real now than it had ever been before. Many didn't return to Hogwarts this year, their parents choosing to keep their kids home. Harry agreed; it was stupid. Hogwarts was a fortress, for Merlin's sake. But maybe if his parents were still alive they'd want him to stay with them too… Maybe even Sirius would have-

No.

Sirius was gone. And Harry had a mystery to solve.

He grit his teeth and closed his curtains, focusing instead on the map as he waited for Draco Malfoy's label to appear by the light of his wand. He doubted he would sleep tonight.

It had been a busy night for Draco. The Vanishing Cabinet had proven to be a nasty piece of work, and he'd spent the past four hours just trying to figure out what was wrong with it. Draco was still in the diagnostic stage; casting varying degrees of analysis spells to determine just how many layers of fuckery he had to go through before he had any hope of solving whatever was broken. He'd seen its twin in Diagon Alley, and secretly cast a few wandering diagnostic charms on that one to determine what this one should look like after he was finished with it. He'd mistakenly thought this was the easy part.

Draco's grades had dropped drastically since September which had confused Blaise to no end because he spent almost all of his time reading. These books in particular were summoned directly from the library in the Manor, most of them illegal. He hadn't dared to set foot in Hogwarts' restricted section after the talk he'd been given by Dumbledore at the start of the year.

"_Is there something you'd like to tell me, Draco?"_

_Draco had scoffed without meaning to. Perhaps it was the use of his first name coupled with the irony that he was facing the man he'd been tasked to kill by the end of term. _

"_Really, sir. I don't know why you bothered to summon me up here." _

_Dumbledore surveyed him from over his half-moon glasses, bright blue eyes twinkling in the fire light of his warm office. _

"_I will not insult you by feigning ignorance." Said Dumbledore, "I am aware that your father was involved in the attack on the ministry last year"-_

_-"You don't know anything about my father!" Draco had fired back, becoming heated. He'd closed his eyes briefly, willing himself to calm down as the Curse prickled the back of his throat, threatening to turn his shouts into growls. He resisted the urge to touch his pendant, as he so often did when he felt like this. _

"_We can help each other, Draco." The Headmaster told him. The softness of his voice and the bony hand he laid on Draco's shoulder, its fingers mysteriously blackened, only served to irritate Draco further. He shoved him off. _

"_You can't help me." He said quickly. Too quickly. "There's nothing to help me with." _

_Dumbledore's bird, the Phoenix, swooped from his perch and came to rest on Dumbledore's desk. It fixed Draco with a beady glare. Draco felt scrutinized by the fantastic creature. It was magical after all, and he was scared the bird could see something inside Draco no one else could. He knew animals sensed it. They often instinctively fled from Draco on sight - or attacked. He thought bitterly of his run in with the Hippogriff in third year. He'd thought he was in for it, but thankfully the attack was blamed on Draco's arrogance rather than the Curse. His parents had known better and reprimanded him to no end. Now, Draco looked into the wizened old features of his target. His _enemy_. Little do you know, he thought, I could transform right now and - _

"_Sometimes, Draco, we are given a choice and we are made to think there is no escape from it. Or perhaps made to believe there is only one way out."_

_Draco grit his teeth._

"_There is never one ultimatum. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

_Once he left the office, Draco had allowed himself to cry for the first time since coming back to Hogwarts._

He realized then had to keep his wits about him. He wasn't stupid enough to think Dumbledore didn't already suspect him, and if he began rooting around the restricted section he was bound to be found out.

But tonight his concerns were not with the Vanishing Cabinet. No, tonight he had a date with Madam Rosmerta. Not that she knew it.

Usually Draco had no problem slipping past the wards without detection. He'd done it hundreds of times before. But he noticed this time they were a little..._tighter_. It had taken him weeks to plan this endeavour. He'd been hoping to win the Felix Felicis in Slughorn's moronic first class but somehow Potter had managed to filch the opportunity from him. He'd been livid.

But no matter, his skills alone could get him through this. So far so good. The wards were tricky, but he'd practiced with far worse in his own home.

It was a freezing November night, and Draco wrapped his thick woolen coat around himself. Time to cast a Glamour.

He made himself look older - not by much, just enough to get away with being in a pub an hour before midnight - and gave himself black hair. He tried not to over analyse his decision as he was momentarily reminded of Potter, so he shook himself free of the thought and made his way to The Three Broomsticks.

Despite his avid preparation, adrenaline spurned through Draco's veins as he entered the pub, a light hubbub ringing in his ears and the scent of cinnamon invading his senses. It smelled delicious and he hadn't eaten since breakfast, but he forced his attention to the woman behind the bar. It was with a chill that he recognised Minerva McGonagall sitting at the bar in animated conversation with the barmaid herself. Draco cursed under his breath and shrunk to a dark corner of the pub where he sat, nursing a flask of Pumpkin Juice, until McGonagall left almost half an hour later. His heart threatened to beat out of his ribcage as they made eye contact for a split second. She gave him a slight nod in greeting. He returned it, unable to believe his luck.

Taking his time, Draco sauntered up to the bar.

"What can I do for ya?" Madam Rosmerta asked easily.

"Firewhisky." Draco grunted, keeping his eyes locked on the bar-top. As Rosmerta summoned the bottle it occurred to him that he'd only ever drank Firewhiskey once. He tried to make it look convincing as he knocked back the neat liquor, and tried not to wince as it burned tracks down his throat.

On the bright side, his voice sounded considerably gruffer now and the lightheadedness that came with intoxication granted him the confidence to poke his wand from his sleeve and cast an _Imperio_ on Rosmerta. Her eyes went blank instantly and she swayed on the spot. From his other sleeve, Draco slid free a vial of Baneberry potion.

"You will take a bottle of mead and this vial, and you will pour its contents inside." He murmured low so only she could hear. "The next time you see Professor Horace Slughorn you will give him the mead and tell him it will make a fine gift for Professor Dumbledore. Do you understand me? Nod if you understand."  
Like the puppet she'd become, Rosmerta nodded obediently and took the vial from Draco. Blank-eyed, she hobbled to the back of the bar, picked out a fresh bottle of oak matured mead, uncorked the vial and tipped its contents inside. Then she wrapped it in brown paper and set it aside, marking it with a label that read: _For H. Slughorn. _

Before lifting the Unforgivable Curse, Draco ducked his head and strode out of the pub, wordlessly breaking the spell as numbingly cold air surrounded him, blown by a harsh wind.

He'd done it…

Now wasn't the time to get cocky. There was a huge chance this might not work. But he had an insurance plan, the contents of which were waiting at the Manor, to be sent by owl and wrapped up extensively. He only hoped this method would work first. It was almost painless as poisons went.

Almost.

Draco braced himself against the vile winds, vaguely wondering why he cared. The method was irrelevant. As long as Dumbledore was dead by the end of the year… as long as…

His sobs were lost in the howls of wind and the first spits of rain. It was just as well, because he couldn't stop them. He looked towards the forest, its dark branches beckoning him in. It would be so easy to let go, to release the bound up energy he'd been holding onto since the beginning of term, but he couldn't. He'd had a sleepless three nights in preparation for this one. He had to make it to bed tonight, or he'd end up missing lessons tomorrow. And if he did that, someone would suspect him. And if they suspected him, it would be harder to do this. Even harder than it already was.

Blaise, Theo, Gregory and Vincent were playing a game of exploding snap in the dorm room when Draco finally made it indoors. He'd had the sense to cast a warming charm over himself and remove the Glamour, so he hoped there wouldn't be too many questions. Even so he couldn't help himself from asking as he hung his coat up, frowning:

"What are you doing? It's almost one in the morning and we have Potions first thing tomorrow."

A silence followed his question. They'd been doing that a lot lately. Not so much Gregory and Vincent - they were usually quiet due to the lack of words their addled brains provided - but Blaise and Theo were giving him very odd looks indeed.

"It's Vinnie's birthday." Said Theo, not bothering to hide his disdain. "We were celebrating. We waited for you earlier but we decided not to bother in the end."

Draco gave Vincent a nod. "Oh, right. Happy birthday."

Hardly in the mood for their childish snubbing, Draco locked himself in the bathroom and stripped down. He felt dirty, covered in a layer of invisible grime. He washed himself for what felt like hours, using copious amounts of soap and cleansing potions until his skin was prickly and raw. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging up the mirror. Good, Draco thought. He didn't want to see his own face. His reflection was haunting him of late, the dark circles becoming more prominent each day, his pallor waning to match his shock of white hair. Draco rubbed his left arm. Even though the skin there was blank, he knew it would not be for long. Soon he would be branded with the same tattoo his father carried. It would make no difference. He was already bound by the same rules; stricter rules in fact than any other Death Eater. It wasn't fair. If he failed, his family would die. _He _would die. He hadn't seen any other Death Eaters attempt to assassinate Albus Dumbledore, so why was this his task? He wasn't even seventeen yet.

He could think of no other reason the Dark Lord would have for doing this other than his own amusement. The dark wizard's amused lipless smirk was often the subject of Draco's nightmares.

"_You will do me well, Draco. You will do better than your father."_

Draco knew the strain he was on his family; how they feared his secret would come out. If the Dark Lord knew what Draco was and what he could do…

The Curse seemed to relish the idea, roiling deep in Draco's gut with vigour. Would the Dark Lord let it free? Draco sucked in a breath, trying to banish the thoughts. They were the result of sleep deprived paranoia, he knew, brought on by the stress of what he'd done today. But this was just the start.

He wiped a section of the mirror clean, just enough so he could stare at the Jade pendant hanging around his neck. It was unassuming; a pretty stone cut into the shape of a small rod. But it was his barrier. His protector. The only thing keeping the Curse from overtaking him completely. He brought it to his lips and sighed.

"No one will know. No one will ever find out. I promise, mother."

And he had promised. From the day he turned thirteen to the day he'd left his mother on the platform at King's Cross amidst the snide remarks and camera flashes of _The Prophet's _shameless journalists, he promised his secret would be upheld. Especially from the Dark Lord.

Not long now and he could go home to their secret room and let the Curse free for one night, as he had done every two months for the past three and a half years. It was the only place his secret was truly safe.

Quidditch practice was no fun when all your Keeper could talk about was his new girlfriend.

"I'm not saying _everyone _should have this experience, Harry," Ron was saying as they walked off the pitch, red-faced and spattered with mud, "but I've learnt some really valuable stuff from Lavender."

"Like what? The compatibility of a Leo and a Gemini?"

Ron blinked. "Alright, look. I know her obsession with astrology is a bit"-

-"Annoying? Cliche?"

Ron huffed. "Well… okay. But that's not all we talk about!"

"I'll be honest, I haven't seen you do much talking." Said Harry.

Ginny snorted. "I'm surprised you still have the ability to talk, Ron. I thought that girl would've stolen your voice, she's had her tongue down there so much."

She and Harry laughed and Ron pouted.

"Says you." Ron fired back. "You and Dean aren't exactly strangers to snogging, Gin."

Ginny's face darkened. "Yeah, well… I don't want to talk about Dean right now."

She pushed past them into the girl's changing room. Harry and Ron shared a look.

"Alright, maybe I shouldn't have done that." Said Ron before Harry could.

"You think?" Harry pulled out the map, instinctively searching for a name. He found it heading towards the Owlery.

"Mate…" Said Ron in a low voice.

"Hm?"

It was almost six o'clock. Nearly time for dinner. The Owlery was empty at this hour. There must be a reason Malfoy had chosen to go up there now. The name vanished from his sight as the map was yanked from his hands.

"You haven't even showered yet!" Said Ron.

Harry reached for the map but Ron held it high above his head. It wasn't fair that his best friend was so much taller than him.

"Give that back!"

"I'm confiscating this until after dinner." He told him, sounding uncannily like Mrs. Weasley. "Hermione will shout at you if she sees you staring at this thing again. It's not normal, Harry."

Harry grit his teeth. "Fine." He knew where he had to go. "I'll meet you for pudding."

He stormed out of the changing rooms without showering. He had no time to lose. The march up to the Owlery was grim. Winter was closing in fast and the rain turned to sleet. Harry wiped a stripe of mud across his face as he attempted to dry it. He shucked off his Quidditch gloves, shoving them in his pocket.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, he was panting and clutching a stitch in his side.

Malfoy didn't see him right away. He was stood in front of the window, dimly lit by torches lining the walls. Harry's first thought was how thin Malfoy looked. His clothes hung off him loosely and his long-fingered hands were gaunt around the parcel they were holding. He appeared to be shaking. Whether from cold or emotion, Harry could not tell. Harry made to hide himself, but his shifting feet against the stone floor caused Malfoy to turn sharply. Unguarded shock clouded Malfoy's eyes, and Harry was struck by vulnerable he looked before his features arranged into an expression of pure venom.

Harry scowled back by default. "What are you up to, Malfoy?"

Malfoy sneered "Up to? My, the death of your good for nothing godfather really has got you paranoid, hasn't it? Oh, yes. I know all about him. Well, he isn't here to save you now. I thought I taught you a lesson on the train, but I can see it'll take more than that."

Harry's blood turned hot. He saw red. He reached for his wand before he knew what he was doing.

"Talk about Sirius like that again and I'll burn your tongue out." He snarled, advancing.

Malfoy gripped the parcel tighter, the letter in his other hand fluttering by the draft.

"Sod off, Potter. I'm sure someone is in dire need of saving. Perhaps you should go to them instead of following me around like a fucking shadow."

Harry gripped his wand tighter, refusing to believe Malfoy had actually found him out. He'd been careful. Or so he thought. Was Malfoy more perceptive than he realized? Moody's (Or rather Barty Crouch Jr's) mantra rang in his ears: "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Well, he hadn't been the only one in that classroom. Malfoy must have learnt a thing or two from his fellow Death Eater after all. He chanced a risk at Malfoy's arm which was, of course, covered by a sleeve.

"Oh, please!" Malfoy exclaimed, noticing the action, "You don't _actually _believe I'm a - Merlin's beard, you _do!_"

Malfoy laughed, his voice echoing around the tower. It was an awful sound; full of malice and scorn.

"Have you told your minions your theory, Potter? Where are they now? The Mudblood and the Weasel?"

Harry remained silent, refusing to rise to the bait.

Realization dawned on Malfoy's face, his deductions impressively quick.

"Ah… they don't believe you, do they?"

It must have shown in Harry's reaction, because Malfoy barked another horrible laugh, his pale pointed face twisting into something hollow and empty.

"How sad."

"The only thing that's sad is how pathetic your lies are, Malfoy. What's in there?" He pointed at the package with his wand.

Draco leant against the wall casually, "Just a trinket. A gift from my mother." He smirked, "You couldn't possibly afford it."

Malfoy's derision scorched through Harry like a spell in itself, rattling him with seething rage. His wand hand shook with it.

"You don't get it, do you? I don't hate you because you're rich, you stupid stuck up bastard. I don't even hate you because you're a Slytherin. I hate you because of what you're doing. What you're _letting happen_!"

Malfoy's jaw clenched tight.

"Even if you're not a Death Eater - which I don't believe for a second by the way - your father is. Your family is _hurting _people, Malfoy, and every day you stand by and watch it happen, you're letting innocent people die!" Harry couldn't stop it. The words poured from him; from the hollow space in his chest where Sirius had made his home three years ago only to be cruelly snatched away, and by this boy's aunt nonetheless. Harry despised him for it.

A second passed. Two. An Eagle owl screeched its protest at Harry's yelling. Malfoy raised a single, platinum brow.

"How eloquent of you, Potter." He drawled. Something behind his eyes was different. Harry saw it, a flame flickering behind the glacial grey pools that now bored into him with spite. "I'll make sure to pass that on to my father. In _Azkaban_."

He made to leave, leaving a cold breeze in his wake.

"Tell your mother too." Harry muttered, "No doubt she's one as well."

Before Harry could process what was happening, he was being slammed against the hard stone doorframe. His head made contact with a sharp crack and he saw stars.

"Don't you say a damn thing about my mother, Potter." Malfoy hissed in his face, jamming his hand against Harry's throat.

Still recovering from the blow to his head, all Harry could do was glare up at his assailant. He'd been waiting for a moment to get this close. And do… what? Apprehend him? Drag him to Dumbledore's office tied up and bound and declare him guilty? He hadn't thought that far ahead, and now he might never get to. Malfoy could actually kill him.

"Or what?" He challenged. He was _asking _for trouble and he knew it. But something kept pushing him further.

Malfoy looked even worse up close. The sharp angles of his face were kept rigid in a constant frown. His eyes were manic, surrounded by hollow sockets that suggested a severe lack of sleep. If he was someone else, Harry might have felt sorry for him. Maybe a tiny part of him did.

"You don't understand." Malfoy continued. "She's not"-

He stopped, his face turning to a picture of confusion, seemingly by his own words.

"She's not what?" Harry choked out. "One of you?"

Malfoy released him harshly. Harry doubled over, breathing hard and rubbing the back of his head. No blood. Small mercies were aplenty.

"You know fuck all about me, Potter. Stay away from me. I mean it."

Malfoy was gone before Harry had the chance to hex him. He should have done it earlier. With a frustrated grunt he marched into the Owlery, plucked some parchment from his bag and a slightly bent quill, and began writing.

_Remus,_

_I think you're the only person I can trust with this. I think you'll understand. Please promise to hear me out. _

_Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater._

_He all but confessed it to me just now. I think he means to hurt someone, or maybe all of us. I don't know what to do. Ron and Hermione don't believe me. He keeps disappearing at odd hours and his father is in Azkaban! It makes sense! Anyway, I could really do with some help. Please. _

_Harry_

It was quick. Crude. Blotched with mud. But it would do. Harry grabbed the nearest owl with some force, earning him a sharp nip on the finger, and tied the rolled up parchment to its leg.

"Make sure he gets it." He told the tawny owl, who gave him a steely stare that suggested something like: _Of course I will. Why do you think I'm here you rude arsehole? _And then Harry had to blink because he'd just had an imaginary conversation with an owl. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he thought.

Harry sprinted back to the Gryffindor common room, took a speedy shower and ran back to the Great Hall. He was in time for pudding as it turned out.

Ron turned to him, face full of Eton Mess, looking sheepish. Hermione scowled.

"Where were you?" She demanded the second he sat down.

"Owlery." Said Harry easily, helping himself to a large helping of dessert. "I found Draco Malfoy there."  
Hermione stared at him, incredulous. "You're not even denying it. You're stalking him. Oh, Harry"-

-"He's a Death Eater, Hermione." Said Harry, shrugging. He'd said it so many times it was almost second nature.

"I tried 'o 'ell 'im." Ron said through a full mouth. Hermione grimaced.

"Swallow your food, Ron. Seriously, Harry. You have to drop this. You have to think about your NEWTs! Not to mention keeping yourself safe from"-

-"Death Eaters. Yes." Harry finished for her. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

As if on cue, he met Malfoy's gaze across the Hall. Harry stared back, unflinching. The back of his head still throbbed and he channeled his unspent rage into his glare, into the things he would have said if Malfoy hadn't run off like a coward. Usually it was something of a contest: _who could stare the longest_? But tonight, Malfoy was the first to relent. He cast his eyes downward back at the table while his friends laughed amongst themselves. Malfoy sat apart from them. He had been doing so for some weeks, Harry had noticed, but he was only now beginning to _see _it. To understand what it meant.

Malfoy's mission was his, and his alone.

"Harry, are you listening?" Hermione said in a pleading tone.

Harry met her eyes. He softened. "You don't need to worry about me, Hermione. If you would just listen."

"We _are _listening. And it…" She glanced at Ron for support.

"It sounds like a cry for help, mate."

Mortally offended, Harry gaped at them. "A _cry for help_?" He echoed, unable to believe his ears.

Hermione's eyes glistened.

"Bloody hell, don't _cry_." Harry said. He gave a disbelieving laugh. "You're off your rockers, the pair of you."

Hermione took his hand, and he hated the pity in her voice. "Harry, we know it's been hard. We know."

"Stop…"  
"Sirius loved you, and he wouldn't want"-

-"Stop!" Harry shouted, catching the attention of the whole of Gryffindor table. Probably the whole room. He didn't care to look up and find out.

"We're trying to help you!" Said Ron.

"Then help me!" Harry cried as he stood, chest heaving with emotion. "Help me." He said again, smaller. He sounded like a child.

Tears tracked down Hermione's face, her eyes filled with concern. Harry couldn't bear it. He turned away and marched right back out the way he'd come, throat constricted with the need to shout - scream - _anything. _No one would fucking _listen_.

He only had to search for a minute before he found the map in Ron's drawers. He took it and found himself in the library ten minutes later. No one was bound to look for him here. He rarely went to the library unless it was with Hermione so he was confident he wouldn't be found. Trying to quell the emotions raging inside of him at the mention of Sirius, Harry tried to concentrate on Malfoy's name, penned in sentient calligraphy against the aged parchment.

Why was everyone using Sirius against him today? He knew Hermione hadn't meant to do it the way Malfoy had, but it stung. He knew Sirius would be on his side about this, which is why he'd written to Remus first. Remus would understand, just like Sirius would. Right?

Harry's thoughts eventually calmed as he watched the map, and he perked up again once he saw Malfoy making a move. First, he went to the Slytherin common room. Boring. After an hour or so of the marker sitting still, Harry was about to give up and slope back to the Gryffindor common room where he'd no doubt apologise for his outburst and join Ron for a game of chess - as was their usual routine - but then Malfoy began to walk again. The tiny black footsteps travelled from the dungeons, up and up until he reached the passageway behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy on the fifth floor, one Harry himself was all too familiar with. It led to the Forbidden Forest. Why Malfoy wanted to go there, Harry had no idea. It was sure to be something Death Eater related.

Harry didn't even hesitate as he gathered his things and made for the library exit. That was until he heard the hushed, but passionate tail-end of an argument from behind a bookcase.

"...don't understand why you don't want to spend time with me anymore! You keep using NEWTs as an excuse but I hardly see you studying."

"That's the point, Ginny. I study on my own so you'll hardly see it, will you?"

"You spend more time with your friends than you ever have with me."

"So, what? This is my fault?"

"I don't know! Fuck knows, alright? I have no fucking idea what's going on with you."

Harry grimaced. If Dean wasn't careful he'd be on the other side of one of Ginny's famous Bat-Bogey Hexes.

The argument ended with Dean storming out. Harry lingered where he was for a second. If he passed Ginny too soon, she'd think he'd been eavesdropping. Which he had been, but that wasn't the point.

Ginny's quiet sniffles sounded moments later. Fuck. Was she _crying_? Despite his misgivings, Harry didn't like to hear her hurt.

He stepped out from where he was standing (hiding). Ginny looked up, red-eyed, but she didn't seem surprised.

"Christ, Harry. Did you hear all that?" She croaked.

"Err… not all of it?" He tried.

Ginny laughed a little before burying her head in her hands and letting out a sob that had Harry worrying Madam Pince may appear at any second to banish them.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, and awkwardly remembered what Ron had said about him _liking _her. The thought made him uneasy. She was like his sister.

"I swear I'm gonna launch Dean into the lake if he pulls any of his shit again." She muttered furiously against Harry's shoulder. "He'd do well with the Giant Squid. Godric knows he kisses like one."

Harry laughed. "And you've kissed the Giant Squid, have you?"

"No, but sometimes I think it would understand me better than _he _does." She sighed and pulled away from him, wiping her nose. "Sorry for snotting on your shirt. That was disgusting."

Harry shrugged. "S'alright. It's already green from the grass stains I can't _Scourgify _clean so it won't make much of a difference."

"Ugh." Said Ginny, but she laughed, so it was alright. "Walk with me to the common room, will you?"

Harry squirmed. Draco Malfoy was going to the Forbidden Forest. But Ginny was upset. But Malfoy was up to something. Her face fell.

"Unless… you're busy."

"No, no!" Said Harry quickly, already wishing he'd said yes. Nonetheless, he accompanied Ginny out of the library and tried to shove all thoughts of Draco-Sodding-Malfoy out of his head. There was time yet to catch him. It wasn't even Christmas. It was okay.

It was okay.

_Dearest Draco,_

_Inside the parcel is the gift you asked for. Do not under any circumstances open it. It is ready to be sent as it is. _

_I've also enclosed some chocolates. I'm sure your last supply must have run out by now. _

_I am afraid I have some very bad news. This is the last I will be able to say on the matter because soon they will be intercepting my letters, but I'm afraid you cannot come home this month to use the Sky Room. They're coming here. The Manor is becoming a temporary base and by the time this letter reaches you it will not be safe for you to come here and be yourself. I am so so sorry my darling. You must find a place at Hogwarts, somewhere not too far from the castle where the wards can still protect you. I know you think you are strong, but you must not let anyone see you. I will try and get rid of them as soon as I can. Hopefully they will decide our house is not suitable ground for a base when they discover the Bogarts I have placed in every bedroom, but I cannot vouch for its safety for now. _

_Remember what we talked about before you left. Please reply soon and tell me how you are. Stay safe sweetheart and trust Severus when you are in the castle. He will protect you. _

_My love always,_

_Mother_

Draco threw the letter into the fire, quashing the well of anger and fear that rose inside him again. He was fucked. Well and truly fucked. The only place he'd ever been able to safely transform was the Sky Room at the Manor. If he transformed here, all manner of things could go wrong. But he _had _to, otherwise the Curse would take matters into its own hands and transform him against his will. It needed an outlet; a brief period of time to… be free. The Sky Room had been the only place he could do it without fear of being caught, but now it was being taken over by the Dark Lord's brainless grunts.

Draco kicked his chair and swore. A couple of first years huddled over their Astronomy homework at the other end of the Common Room watched him anxiously. He glared at them until they scarpered off to their dorms.

He was half-tempted to write back and insist his mother accommodate him; just for one night, however he knew it was too dangerous. She was right. The slightest hint of Draco's Curse would send the Dark Lord on his back right away. He'd become nothing more than a slave to the cause, a weapon. It was his worst fear.

And then there had been his moment of weakness with Potter earlier. Truly pathetic. His father would be disappointed if he'd seen how easily he'd crumpled. Draco pushed his head into his hands, carding his hands through his hair.

He had to think of something. A place he could go. There was always the Room of Requirement. He'd been going there for some time and it never failed to show him what he needed. Surely it could create a space big enough for his… purposes. But could Dumbledore detect _all _magic that occured within the castle? Draco didn't know, and he didn't want to risk it. The Vanishing Cabinet was small-scale detailed work, easily lost in the plethora of spells constantly being cast at Hogwarts. But the outburst released at his moment of transformation could cause an alarm system to go off, and that was the last fucking thing he needed.

The Shrieking Shack was too small. He was bound to cause a commotion, or worse he'd stumble in on some superstitious second years trying to perform a seance. It had been known to happen.

There was only one place for it.

The Forbidden Forest.

Draco hated the prospect of going in there, maybe even more than he hated the prospect of another inevitable confrontation with Potter. Hopefully next time Potter wouldn't be mud caked and sopping with rain (though the water did make a significant improvement to the rat's nest on his head, Draco hadn't failed to notice).

Resigning to what was sure to be a long and dread filled night, Draco packed a small bag filled with the basics: some crackers he'd nicked from dinner, the parcel (he didn't plan on going anywhere without it until it was time to use it), a fresh shirt, a pair of trousers and his wand, which he kept in his pocket.

He slipped out of the common room and made his way up to the fifth floor which was, mercifully, deserted. Draco entered the tunnel behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, casting a _Lumos _for the way.

The forest was freezing. Small crystals of ice formed on the tips of leaves and the ground crunched underfoot. He was only wearing a shirt, so the chill dug deep down to his bones. He consoled himself with the fact he wouldn't feel it soon.

A fine mist blanketed the forest floor, concealing the creatures that made all manner of sounds amidst the leaves. Thick tree trunks surrounding him like towers. Draco would never forget his first time in this forest. The night he and Potter had run into that… _thing_. The sight of the dead Unicorn on the ground, silver blood pooled around its magnificent mane, had traumatised Draco. He hadn't slept properly for months afterwards. Draco had no doubts that it had been just a typical night to Potter. It was probably a small fry to him now, if he hadn't forgotten about it entirely.

Draco allowed the anger to consume him, unbuttoning his shirt as he trod through the undergrowth, deeper and deeper into the gloomy depths of his cursed surroundings. But he, Draco, was the most cursed creature of all who occupied the forest tonight.

He found a clearing. It was like a dish, scooped out in the middle of the forest and bathed in starlight. It was a clear night, thank Merlin, and with a jolt Draco realized this would be his first time flying outside. Draco touched the pendant on his neck.

"Keep me safe." He breathed before he gazed up at the stars and allowed his breath to grow hot in his throat. His skin prickled like pins and needles, changing texture as Draco allowed the Curse to spread from where he usually kept it locked up tight in his core. It shot through his veins and turned his bones to ice, enclosing him in a new kind of flesh. Draco closed his eyes, knowing soon he'd be able to look with new ones.

It wasn't painful. It never was. But it was strange, expanding in a way that seemed to go on and on and on until his fingers curled into claws and his jaw broke open into something far larger. His shoulder blades grew from his back, spreading wide into leathery wings and his tail snaked free of his vertebrae, revelling in the space it had to stretch. There were no walls out here, no ceiling to restrict his body, and he found himself growing larger than ever. When he breathed, it was to suck in gallons of oxygen, sparking his body with energy. Draco opened his eyes. His Dragon's eyes. And he saw the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

_***A/N: **__Hello! Thank you for reading the first chapter. I hope you're intrigued to find out what happens next! I have big plans for this fic. It will be long, angsty and a sloooooow burn. You might think we'll never get there, but we WILL, I promise! I've never published a drarry fic before and I've always wanted to. I've had my story on my mind for years, and recently I've been going through some pretty bad writer's block so I thought:: fuck it. Who doesn't love drarry? who doesn't love dragons? combine the two and you've got yourself a wholeass meal. _

_I'm looking for Beta readers who can help me with this monster of a fic, so if anyone can help me, please PM! In the meantime, enjoy this lengthy chapter_ ^_^ ~ Seb

**Chapter Two**

_Aeterna Somnum_

Harry watched Hermione stab her toast with her fork and stuff it into her mouth, her dark eyes full of rage.

"What did it do to you?" Asked Harry.

Hermione met his eyes across the table. "What are you talking about, Harry?"  
"The toast really taste that bad? I don't think that's its fault."

Hermione sighed, her mouth pulling up into a ghost of a smile at Harry's sad attempt at humour.

"Sorry." She said, "I'm just tired."

It was all too clear where the real source of her irritation was coming from, and currently it had its arm wrapped around Lavender Brown's waist.

"Do they have to do that at breakfast?" Hermione seethed.

"Don't look." Harry warned, "Seriously, it isn't worth getting upset over." He realized how awful it sounded the moment the words left his mouth. "I mean, I know why you're upset"-

Hermione just shook her head. "Don't worry, Harry. I know what you meant." She frowned, distracted by the huddle of students gathered around the furthest end of the Hufflepuff table. "What's got them so energetic at this time of the morning?"

Even Ron and Lavender had been momentarily distracted from their loved-up exchange. Harry and Hermione caught up with them on the way to the Hufflepuff table no sooner than they heard Zacharias Smith's loud voice over the commotion.

"It's true!" He was saying to any and all who would listen. "I saw it, I did!"

Seamus was shaking his head. "You're full of shit, Smith."

Zacharias' pinched face turned sour. "You wish you'd seen it, Finnigan. Don't be jealous."

"Seen what?" Asked Harry, all heads turning to face him.

Zacharias' eyes lit up at the attention from the Chosen One himself. He was still trying to win back Harry's favour after pissing him off at the DA last year. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"A Dragon! There's a Dragon at Hogwarts." More gasps followed his statement as half of Ravenclaw house joined in.

Hermione exhaled. "Oh, for goodness sake. Come on, Harry." She began to tug his arm but Harry resisted.

"A Dragon?" He prompted. "Where? When?"

Zacharias licked his lips. "I was out on the pitch last night getting some solid practice in, yeah? And"-

-"Right, because you can't hang on to a Quaffle to save your life." Said Dean. Everyone tittered. Zacharias ignored him with noticeable effort.

"I was just flying, you know, and then I saw a flash over the forest."

"The Forbidden Forest?" Harry asked.

Zacharias nodded vehemently. "It was… gliding. Over the trees. And it was white… no, blue maybe? I don't know, it was hard to tell in the dark but I definitely saw it."

"Are you sure it wasn't just a fat seagull?" Ron remarked. Lavender shrieked a laugh as though this was the funniest thing she'd ever heard and Hermione made a great show of putting her fingers in her ears.

Zacharias scowled. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you lot. You can't take anything seriously, can you?"

Opinions flew between students, and soon they gathered the attention of the teachers.

"Mr Smith," Said Professor McGonagall, appearing out of nowhere, her lips a stern thin line. "Would you mind enlightening me to the reason for this gathering you've acquired?"

"Smith saw a Dragon, Professor!" Seamus supplied, grinning. Dean clapped him on the shoulder and the pair guffawed.

"I did." Said Zacharias, puffing out his chest.

McGonagall inhaled deeply. "I'm sure if there was a Dragon on the premises, Mr Smith, we would be well aware. Now I advise you to get back to your breakfast and back to"- she peered over his shoulder - "your Transfiguration homework which was, I believe, due yesterday morning."

Zacharias blushed hotly and stared at his shoes. "Yes, Professor." He mumbled.

Everyone disbanded the Hufflepuff table with disgruntled murmurs. Harry retreated with Hermione, lost in thought.

"Honestly," She was saying. "Some students will say anything for attention, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised it's Smith. He was a horror last year - are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, no I'm fine." Said Harry, "It's just weird isn't it? I mean, why make up a Dragon? You'd think he could come up with something a bit more… realistic."

Hermione regarded him. "You don't believe him do you, Harry? This is Zacharias Smith we're talking about."

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I know what it's like to know something and not have anyone believe me."

His accusation hung between them like an invisible wall. Hermione stiffened.

"You know we're trying to keep an open mind. It just seems too unlikely. I wish you would stop holding it against us."

Harry said nothing and finished his scrambled eggs. He sensed a pair of eyes on him, knowing exactly who they belonged to a second before he glanced upward to meet them. How very unlike Malfoy it was to avoid his gaze, Harry thought as the Slytherin boy reverted his gaze back to the table. His plate of food was untouched and he was paler than ever. _Eat something_ _you stupid bastard!_ Harry thought furiously. He had a terrific urge to march over and force feed Draco Malfoy his own scrambled eggs. It was annoying him, all this moping around. As far as he was concerned, Malfoy had no right to mope.

_His father is in prison_, a small voice at the back of his mind reminded him. But rightfully so. Lucius Malfoy could rot there as far as Harry was concerned. Him and the rest. A little tawny owl swooped over Harry's breakfast, dropping a rolled up letter into his lap. Hermione watched him unravel it curiously. Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Remus' handwriting.

_Harry,_

_I don't think an explanation will suffice in a letter. We'll talk tonight at one in your common room. I'll be waiting,_

_Remus_

Harry's heart thudded. He grinned up at Hermione.

"Fancy a chat with Moony later?"

She didn't quite smile but her eyes sparkled. It was enough of an answer for Harry.

The rumours spread around the school like wildfire.

"Smith saw a Dragon on the pitch!"

"I heard it attacked him and ate his Quaffle…"

"Is he okay?"

"It's all a lie. They're just trying to scare us."

"It's a new weapon You-Know-Who made! My cousin is a Dragonkeeper and she'd never heard of the one Smith described. Unless it was an anaemic Peruvian Viper-Tooth, she said."

Draco had to hold back a laugh for that one. No Dragonkeeper would be familiar with Draco's Dragon. There were none others like it. There couldn't be. The Curse was tailored to match Draco exactly; to imitate him in every respect, projecting his soul and body into that of another creature's. Their soul was one and the same, even if their bodies weren't.

Even so, flying above the trees had been tremendously stupid. His mother would have had a fit if she found out. But he hadn't been able to resist the temptation of the limitless sky above. He'd never been able to stretch his wings like that. As much as he hated to admit it, it was truly exhilarating. The Curse was nowhere near satiated. It never was. But it hummed obediently today when Draco ordered it down rather than trying to fight free as it usually did. He feared he'd given it too much last night; a taste of freedom he'd never be able to keep. It was too bad. For once in his life he'd almost managed to stop being afraid of the Curse that had dominated his life for three years.

"If the Dark Lord really has sent a Dragon after Dumbledore," Said Theo in Potions that afternoon, "He'd better start fireproofing the whole fucking place."

The funny thing was, Theo was right. The Dark Lord _had _sent a Dragon after Dumbledore. He just didn't know it.

Blaise shook his head. "Shut up, Theo. Smith is just yanking our legs."

Pansy laughed. "Wouldn't it be great to see his face if a Dragon came after him though? Ooooooh, I'd love to see Granger getting her knickers in a twist running away from _that_."

At the mention of her name, Granger whipped up her head from the adjacent table to glare at Pansy.

Draco sighed. "It's all ridiculous flights of fancy. Everyone's getting bored. They need something new to talk about." Granger was watching him. "Isn't that right, Granger?" He added for good measure, just because he could.

She narrowed her eyes and Potter shuffled closer to her side, throwing Draco green-eyed daggers.

Draco looked away, quite unable to bear it. It was the same look he'd hurled at him yesterday in the Owlery, and it set him completely on edge. It wasn't like the old looks Potter used to give; hormone-fuelled glares of rivalry edged with the exhilaration of another fight. No, these were different. Laced with raw anger and hatred. It unnerved Draco how well he often recognized that look reflected in the mirror and he didn't like to think about what it meant.

"Oh, well done, Harry! Finished with flying colours, as usual." Slughorn beamed, leaning over to inspect Potter's cauldron. The steam emitting from his Wolfsbane Potion was a perfect shade of light blue, as specified in the instructions. Draco's resembled navy sludge, though he hadn't exactly been paying attention. And that was another thing. When the fuck had Potter decided to get good at Potions? As far as he remembered, he'd needed remedial classes last year. Remedial classes! Well, it was unheard of. Draco had never heard of such a lost cause and he'd laughed himself silly at the prospect of Potter in Remedial Potions with Snape. Now he was sure the whole thing had been a ruse to make him look all the better this year. He'd probably been planning it with Dumbledore since first year. Draco crushed his dried Bitterroot stems to dust in his hands, vanishing his Potion with a swish of his wand.

Slughorn ambled over. "My, Mr Malfoy where is your concoction?"

"It got away from me, sir." Said Malfoy blankly, ignoring the dozens of eyes pointed at his head.

Slughorn merely shook his head and moved on to Gregory's, which had begun to curdle.

Blaise bottled his potion, corking it neatly. "Draco, I need some help with this essay. Come to the library in five minutes?"

"I don't have time to"-

-"I really think you should."

Draco glanced at his friend. Blaise's eyes pierced him like lasers. Fuck. Despite knowing his friend for years, Blaise's talents as a part Veela still had their effects on Draco. Blaise could be extremely persuasive when he wanted to be, and Draco was sure he was turning his inherited gifts on him right now.

"Alright. I'll help." Draco agreed reluctantly. There was no way this was about homework. His suspicions were confirmed when they reached a dark corner of the library and Blaise pulled _The Daily Prophet _out of his bag.

"Did you see this?" He demanded, shoving the paper at Draco.

"No." Said Draco, "I don't read the papers anymore."

"Well, you should," Said Blaise. "Someone leaked information about a planned Azkaban mass breakout. Did you know about this?"

"Don't be absurd." Draco scoffed, pulling out a book.

"You didn't say no."

"I shouldn't have to!"  
"_Shhhh!" _

Draco and Blaise threw a glare at the student behind whichever bookcase who had hushed them.

Draco sighed. "Blaise, you're being paranoid. Who the fuck would leak that? No one would be that stupid. They're asking for trouble. It's a rumour."

Blaise clicked his tongue. "Yes, there have been a lot of those lately."

_That there's a Dragon loose on the grounds? _Draco thought, but he suspected that wasn't what Blaise immediately had in mind.

"You have to stop avoiding us."

"I don't _have _to do anything. Alright? I want to be on my own."

"But you look like shit."

Draco snorted. "Thanks. Your encouragement knows no bounds."

"I'm serious." Said Blaise, genuine sickening concern tracing his handsome features. The Veela effect was in full swing, Draco noticed. Blaise had long since stopped bragging about it. It probably had something to do with the very messy and very public divorce his mother had gone through in fourth year on account of being Veela. Or perhaps it was more to do with her seduction of as many men and women in politics she could get her hands on. Seduction and persuasion. _The Prophet _had labelled her a succubus. Draco knew better. Blaise's mother was a very clever woman, and she'd come very close to influencing politicians in her favour. He had to respect that.

"You keep disappearing at night."

Draco shook his head. "I can't sleep. I've always had trouble sleeping. You know that."

"Guessing the Room of Requirement gives you a nice comfy bed to sleep on, then?"

Draco's mouth went dry. "What?"

Blaise leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I'm not a moron. I've seen you go in there. More than once."

"You fucking _followed _me?"

Blaise gave a half-shrug. "It was Theo's idea. We weren't getting any answers from _you._ So, what are you doing? It's obviously not secret Potions work. You're doing terribly."

Draco ground his teeth. "None of your fucking business." He slammed his book on the desk as he stood.

"You know the best way to get revenge on your father probably isn't by failing. You'd be better off marrying a blood-traitor. Or a muggle born." Blaise said, inspecting his fingernails.

"Get lost up a hippogriphs arse, Zabini."

Right at that moment, a ginger head poked around the corner of the bookcase.

"If you don't mind," Ginerva Weasley seethed, "I'm studying. Go and plot somewhere else. All I can hear is your muttering."

Blaise actually raised his eyebrows. Draco pushed past her.

"You looking for a study partner?" He heard Blaise say, and Weasley's scandalised reply was lost to the distance as Draco upped his pace.

This was a disaster. Everything was going completely wrong. If Blaise and Theo had noticed his trips to the seventh floor, they weren't likely to be the only ones. His first thought was Potter. He sensed a confrontation dawning. He'd just have to do his best to avoid it.

And "revenge on his father"? Where had that come from? What gave Blaise the idea he wanted _revenge? _It was such a ridiculous notion it made Draco forget where he was going and he ended up outside the flooded girl's lavatory on the second floor. Perfect. His exhausted reflection rippled up at him from the lake-come-floor, and he couldn't tell whether it was the water making his eyes shimmer like that or if he was actually close to tears. The answer became clear, for a moment later hot liquid scalded the corners of his eyes.

"_Fuck." _He cursed, wiping his eyes and running into the bathroom before he could be seen.

Crying was second nature these days. Where Draco's mind felt like a fortress, his body was the moat, releasing his stresses and anxieties in a way he couldn't bring himself to like normal people. Then again, normal people weren't under the same pressure Draco was.

He bent over a sink, dropping his bag on the floor, his entire body racking with such violent sobs he was sure he might be sick.

Letting himself get taken over by the Curse last night had seemingly made him fragile. He stared at his reflection in the grimy mirror, barely recognising the torn apart expression of anguish on the boy who stared right back. He was a boy. Just a boy. He wasn't a man. How could he be when he cried at the barest mention of his father? He hadn't been able to visit him yet. His mother had gone numerous times without him, each time nodding in understanding when Draco said he was too tired or too busy to visit. He couldn't face him. Not until he'd freed them all from their shame. That was what this was all about, wasn't it? Shame. Redemption. The Dark Lord's favour.

It didn't feel like redemption. And it certainly didn't feel like a favour. It was a punishment.

Draco gripped the sides of the sink, thinking of the package still stowed away in his bag. He had yet to formulate an airtight plan. The Curse scratched at the back of his skull.

"I went out _yesterday_. Leave me alone." He croaked at his reflection, "I can't transform again… not yet…"

"You know, people will think you're mad if you start talking to yourself. I should know."

Draco almost slipped on the wet floor as he spun around to face who had spoken. She hovered in the air above an old cubicle, offering Draco a wide, toothy smile. Moaning Myrtle. Of fucking course. How had he forgotten about her?

"Hello, Myrtle." He said tightly.

"Hello, Draco." She giggled back.

He narrowed his eyes. "You know me?"

Myrtle swooped down to the sink beside him, waving a shimmering hand in front of the cracked mirror.

"Well, of course! I was listening to you talk to Professor Snape on the fourth floor the other day. It's right next to my other bathroom, you know."

Draco tensed. "Is that so?" Could he not take a step without attracting eavesdroppers and stalkers?

"You sounded upset then, too." Myrtle mewled. "I had no idea it was this bad."

Draco let out a heavy sigh, allowing his muscles to sag as he leant against the sink.

"You don't have a clue, Myrtle… I envy you."

Myrtle stared at him. "You _envy _me?" She echoed in fascination. "How fascinating! No one's ever told me they envy me before. Usually they just come here to laugh and stare." She hiccuped. "So I hide in my U bend."

"Wish I could hide in a U bend." Draco mumbled, flexing his fingers. Even they felt numb. He dug his fingernails into his palms, drawing blood. The bright crimson was a refreshing contrast against the grey and white that had been his colour palette recently.

"You could join me if you like," Myrtle said, twirling her hair. "It might be a bit of a squeeze."

"No thank you, Myrtle," Draco replied hollowly, surprised by how little the prospect of sharing a U bend with a flirty ghost bothered him in comparison to the rest of his life, "But I'll be sure to let you know if I change my mind."

All it had taken was a carefully coordinated dungbomb to clear the common room in time for Remus' visit. Harry loved it when Hermione agreed to mischief. She could be truly wicked when she put her mind to it. "I'm only doing it for the Order." She'd insisted as Ron and Harry had snickered at the outcry of the other students as the bomb's noxious gases were released.

Now Remus' face was sticking out of the fire, looking wearier than ever.

"Now I know when I see you three lined up like that I should expect trouble." He said, smirking.

Ron held up his hands. "Not me. I'm innocent."

"Too busy with a certain Miss Brown to get into trouble, I gather?"

Harry sniggered. Ron turned beet red and Hermione rolled her eyes.  
"How'd you know?!"

Remus winked. "Word gets around."

"Fred and George…" Ron grumbled.  
"So, Harry. About your letter…" Remus began.

"Yes!" Harry jumped in, "You need to help me convince these two, Remus. I know there's something going on."

Remus paused, and Harry held his breath. "There may be something going on Harry, but I don't believe it's what you think it is."

It was like a slap in the face. "No way, not you too..." He found himself saying.

"Harry, what makes you believe Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater?"

"How is he _not_?!" He flared, throwing his hands in the air and glaring at each one of them in turn. "His father is in Azkaban for it, he sneaks around at weird hours, he _threatened _me"-

-"Nothing new, mate…" Said Ron under his breath.

-"He's up to something!" Harry continued furiously, "You _both _saw him in Borgin and Burkes."

A resounding silence followed his rant.

"Remus, _please_." He begged. "You have to see it. You know it makes sense."

Remus inhaled. "You know, a lot of people said the same about Sirius when he came to Hogwarts."

Harry bit the inside of his mouth to prevent himself from firing back a retort.

"His family were even more notorious than the Malfoys. If anyone was a likely candidate for a Death Eater, it was him. Of course, James and I knew better but you have no idea the taunts he suffered."

"But… Sirius was a Gryffindor." Said Harry slowly.

Remus raised a brow. "Do I really need to remind you who else was, Harry?"

_Peter Pettigrew. _The unspoken name left a sour atmosphere amongst them, and they sat with the silence for an uncomfortable beat.

"They were terrifying times. Much like now. Everyone was desperate to blame someone, so they chose the easiest targets. I understand why you're doing it but perhaps Draco is acting strange _because _of the accusations, Harry." Said Remus softly, "Not to mention the strain on him now that his father is in prison. I know you have never seen eye to eye"-

-"Understatement of the century"-

-"But you must try," Remus raised his voice, "to see reason above prejudice."

Harry could almost feel his blood boiling. _He _was the prejudiced one? The hypocrisy was mind-numbing.

"I don't believe this." Said Harry, "Can you hear yourselves? This is exactly what Malfoy wants. He laughed at me when he realized no one believed me. He laughed!"

Their expressions didn't change.

"Of course he did." Said Ron. "He's a twat."

"It's more than that!" Harry shouted. He didn't even care if he woke everyone up. They all deserved to know the truth. "Malfoy is smart! Smarter than he wants you to think."

Hermione raised a brow, "You're complimenting him."

Harry's face was heating up. "No I'm not! I'm just saying you're all being completely blind! He's got us right under his thumb! This is what Voldemort wants. I would know. I've been in his fucking head."

Harry struggled to control his breaths. He was kneeling in front of the fire, fists clenched and jaw set.

Remus gave him a hard look. "Harry, I can tell you're distressed." He sighed. "I will _try _to see if I can convince someone to arrange another inspection at the Manor"-

-"It won't be enough. They'll be prepared." Harry insisted.

-"But I can't promise anything." Remus finished. He contemplated each of them. "I have to go. Please remember to focus on your studies and try and not to get too distracted. I will see what I can do, Harry, but I honestly don't think you have to worry about Mr Malfoy."

Harry nodded. "We'll see."

Somehow their expressions of pity were a thousand times worse than the skepticism he'd faced at the start of the year. It was as he thought. He'd have to do this alone.

He shouldn't have opened it. He knew he shouldn't have opened it. But, as always, his curiosity had got the better of him. The Vanishing Cabinet looming above him, Draco aimed a careful _Diffindo _at the well-sealed package his mother had sent him a few weeks ago. The brown paper split cleanly, and the first deadly wink of the necklace's many beads revealed itself, innocently nestled amongst the packaging. It had come with a single note attached: _Aeterna Somnum. _

Draco drew in a shaky breath. "_Wingardium Leviosa." _

The necklace floated in perfect form above the floor, its storm-grey iridescent opals catching the wan light.

Where Draco himself had thought of poisoned mead, his mother had come up with this cruel plan to end Dumbledore's reign as the greatest living wizard of all time once and for all. He had no idea what would happen to the victim who touched the necklace. Simply being in its presence sickened him, causing a bout of nausea to rock him sideways on his heels as he knelt on the floor opposite the cursed object.

December winds howled outside, rattling the windows and splattering the castle with flurries of snow. It was only two weeks until the holidays. He had to do this now or never. Gritting his teeth with a whorl of terror knotted in his abdomen, Draco carefully levitated the necklace back into its packaging and resealed the paper. He had a plan, rough though it was. It was nowhere near as coordinated as his scheme with the mead had been, and even now he had no confirmation whether Madam Rosmerta had passed it on to Slughorn or not. He was shooting in the dark. This would take luck. Luck and good timing on his part.

Draco had evaded every trip to Hogsmeade so far, so when he approached Blaise and asked if he could tag along, his friend was more than a little surprised. The excited chatter of his friends and peers around him on the way blurred into fathomless noise, as if someone had cast a _Muffliato _on his ears. Blaise and Theo were angling for Honeydukes, but Draco split off.

"I'm gonna use the loo in the Three Broomsticks." He told them quickly. "Be right there."

A pinch of truth made a lie go a long way. Even Blaise didn't question it. Draco felt like he was in a daze as he tugged up his hood, cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, pushed past the crowds in the pub, and slipped into the girl's bathroom. The charm was effective, but in such a small space it was possible one of the girls could notice him. He quickly locked himself in a free cubicle. Trying to control his breathing, Draco freed the package from his snow-soaked bag with shaking hands.

Now all he had to do was wait. The bathroom emptied minutes later, and it wasn't long before Draco spotted one pair of feet from under his cubicle door. He exited, immediately casting an _Imperio _on the unsuspecting girl.

Her dark eyes went completely blank. He had to act quickly.

"Take this package and…" He trailed off, realizing he recognized her. It was Gryffindor's Katie Bell. She was a pure-blood. Draco shook his head. Why did it _matter_? "Take this package," He said firmly, "and take it to Professor Dumbledore right away. Nod if you understand." Katie nodded, outstretching her hands. Draco shoved the package into her arms, continuing, "You won't remember me."

He fled the bathroom, his magic weakening as his resolve died, the Disillusionment charm becoming useless.

He barely made it out of the back door of the pub before a dizzying wave of nausea hit and he was violently sick. By the time he was finished, he felt completely empty - hollowed out by his terrible deed and left shivering and sodden in the snow. Muted laughter coming from inside the pub mocked him, and his very own Curse began to take advantage of his frail body, curling under the top layer of his skin and tempting him with the prospect of freedom and warmth his human body simply couldn't give.

"No…" Draco choked out, leaning heavily against the wall. "No, no, no. I won't transform. I won't."

The Curse was too close. Closer than it had ever been outside the comfort of the Manor. Draco hauled himself away from the pub and back towards Hogwarts, stumbling on the uneven, snowy ground.

"_Mother… what's happening to me?" _

_His parent's faces, usually so stoic and strong, crumpled into sorrow above his bed. His body felt like it was on fire. His skin was strange… he didn't feel right… like he would melt or explode at any second. _

"_It's the Curse, isn't it?" His mother whispered to his father, who nodded solemnly. _

_Draco began to cry. "What Curse? Who cursed me? I don't want to die…" _

_His mother knelt by his bedside, cradling his scorching hands in hers. _

"_You won't die, my darling." She told him, tears spilling down her pale face. "You won't. But you have to be strong for us now."_

_His father's expression became hard. "Take him downstairs. It isn't safe up here. There isn't enough room."_

_Draco began to panic as his mother sobbed. He was on fire. His muscles spasmed and his lungs felt too large for his chest. _

"_Enough room for what? Father, please. Help me." _

Draco burst into his dorm room. Gregory was sat at his desk, pouring over homework. Draco hadn't even noticed his absence in Hogsmeade. Gregory frowned.

"Draco? What's wrong?"

He couldn't answer. He was burning up. He slammed into the bathroom, dialling on the shower.

_His father all but dragged him downstairs, discarding him onto the cold marble floor of the Manor's ballroom. His mother followed, pleading with Lucius to wait, but he wouldn't listen. _

"_From now on, Draco, you must listen to exactly what we tell you, do you understand?"_

_Draco looked up at his father tearfully. "Yes, father." He whimpered as his vision blurred. _

"_Oh, it's happening." His mother gasped._

"_Come, Narcissa." Said his father, coercing his mother to the tall, black double doors. "Leave him." _

"_We can't!" His mother cried. _

"_We have no choice!" His father hissed back. "Come, quickly, before"-_

_And that was were Draco's memory hit a blank. _

The icy water turned to steam against Draco's skin. He sat naked under the cold torrent, allowing it to douse the Curse back into submission. When he dared to look at the skin on his arms, he saw it had already begun to change texture, silver scales poking through the fine blond hair on his forearms.

"Why now?" He addressed it, "Fucking go back down… are you trying to get my family killed?"

Draco forced himself to take in long breaths until the water on his back no longer burned but chilled him. He rubbed the pendant, willing the scales to disappear. When he looked back down, they were gone.

He sighed, turning off the shower. "Thank you."

The Curse still felt too close for comfort, but he had it under control for now. He couldn't let himself get so worked up again. He'd done what he'd been told to do. He was doing everything _right_ \- even the Vanishing Cabinet was starting to make sense to him. So why was he feeling worse? His secret was safe. He'd carried out both the mead and the necklace plan all by himself, and it looked like Dumbledore was well on his way to being dead. Maybe even by the end of the day if Katie Bell did what she was told.

So why did he feel worse?

He blamed it on his adventures in the forest. Ever since, he'd been able to think of nothing else. The exhilaration of flying so freely, of being able to let his Dragon form grow so large, had been nagging at him ever since. He'd been right. The Curse had grown more persistent since then. If it weren't for the Manor currently being occupied by the very forces he had to keep the Curse away from, he'd be able to go home and use the Sky Room. It was built by his parents in the heart of the Manor after his first transformation. The room was placed under an undetectable extension charm, and spanned the underbelly of the house - a domed prison for when the Curse became unbearable and Draco had no choice but to release it. He'd tried not to think of the room as a cell, but after his flight in the forest, he now understood the limitations it had been holding on him. There simply wasn't enough _room_. The helplessness of it all descended on Draco, causing his skin to spike with heat again. He tempered it, drying himself furiously before quietly returning to the dorm. It was only the afternoon, but Draco barely had the strength to climb into bed.

"Are you ill?" Asked Gregory from his desk. "You look ill."

Draco closed his eyes, the softness of his sheets already a welcome reprieve.

"I don't know." He replied. "I've been better."

As Draco fell asleep, he imagined himself flying amidst the white clouds, blending in with the snow around him and becoming like the wind itself, gliding freely above the castle with no restraints… no responsibilities… it would be so easy, and yet it was impossible.

_When he awoke, it was amidst charred stone and smoke. The ballroom was a wreckage, whereas he himself was unharmed. He coughed, and smoke puffed from his lips from where it had been hiding in his lungs. _

"_Mother? Father?" He called out. His throat burned._

_The ceiling was falling apart, and shafts of sunlight pooled in the ash, illuminating the swirling smoke and dust. Two figures crouched in the open doorway, a last minute shield charm thrown up to prevent the fire from burning the rest of the house. _

"_Draco?" His mother rasped. His father was unresponsive. Draco couldn't see his face. How long had it been? Seconds? Minutes? It could even have been years. _

_His mother's gasp sobered Draco. "Lucius! Lucius, look at me." _

_Draco rose from the smoking debris around him, his naked skin unaffected by the heat. All the pain was coming from inside of him. He padded through piles of ash and stone until he was standing by his parents. He stared, horror-stricken when he saw his father's face._

"_Father… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to..." _

The Gryffindor common room was quiet that night. News of Katie Bell's curse spread quickly, and a sombre air muted the atmosphere. Ever since Harry's outburst in front of Snape and McGonagall earlier, Hermione and Ron had been bracing themselves for more. He could see it in the way they held their breaths around him, but he couldn't bring himself to argue about Malfoy again. He was past hoping they would see sense. Leanne, the girl who'd been with Katie, was inconsolable. She was so distressed Ginny had to take her to the hospital wing. Harry blamed himself for not keeping an eye on the map. If he'd been looking at the right moment, he could have caught Malfoy in the act. There was no way the culprit wasn't Malfoy. The trip to Hogsmeade was the perfect opportunity to slip Katie the package and avoid suspicion. He confined himself to his dorms and kept the map close by his side all night, only alternating from staring at Malfoy's name to flick through the Half-Blood Prince's scrawlings. The notes had a calming effect on Harry. It was like reading a diary, though vastly different from the organized whimsy of Tom Riddle's diary. These ink blotched scrawlings were a glimpse into someone real. Someone with haphazard thoughts and uncertain questions and a defining tendency to challenge the instructions he was given. Harry related to that.

_Sectumsempra - For enemies, _one note read. Harry thought instantaneously of Malfoy. The next time he saw the Slytherin make a move, he vowed to follow him, regardless of what his friends said.  
But it wasn't that easy, as Harry soon discovered.

The workload was becoming astronomical. Every teacher seemed hellbent on giving them so much work that they were either confined to the library or their rooms. Not to mention, Slughorn wasn't in the best mood with Harry, and with only a few days left until the end of term, he was getting increasingly antsy. It was his own fault. He should have known not to ask him outright about the Horcruxes. But as he'd said to Dumbledore on their last meeting: subtlety had never been his strong point. The headmaster had chuckled at that. Even so, the pressure to complete his task was amounting to a feeling of general helplessness during every Potions lesson when Slughorn deliberately avoided Harry's eye and had started referring to him as "Mr. Potter." Ouch.

On top of everything, he still hadn't heard back from Remus regarding a potential inspection on Malfoy Manor, and the boy himself was proving next to impossible to catch. Harry had abandoned his work numerous times over the last week to flee to the seventh floor, but always - _always - _Malfoy disappeared into the Room of Requirement before Harry could intercept him.

It was their last Potions lesson, and Slughorn had let them off by assigning them the simple task of creating a Confusing Concoction in pairs. Ron and Lavender paired up, and Hermione turned to work with Pavarti. She'd been tenuously avoiding Harry since his shameless attempts at catching Malfoy, but he couldn't even bring himself to be angry. He could work on his own.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Go and pair up with Mr. Malfoy, would you? Merlin knows he could do with the help." Said Slughorn, much to Harry's dismay. Malfoy was indeed alone. His cronies had all partnered up with each other instead of him.

"But, sir"- Harry began. Then he remembered challenging Slughorn when he was supposed to be persuading a memory out of him really wasn't wise. He sighed, gathering his books and sloping off to the adjacent table. "Yes."

Malfoy didn't even glance up from his cauldron to sneer at Harry as he walked over.

"Just for the record," Harry began forcefully, removing his ingredients one by one, "I can do this by myself."

"Sure." Malfoy replied blandly without so much as a glance at Harry. It wasn't even sarcastic.

Harry silently fumed as he unpacked the rest of what they needed, opening his book with an irritated flourish. As he worked, he gleaned some satisfaction from the fact that whatever Malfoy was doing, it clearly wasn't going well. He looked like a ghost. His overgrown pale hair fell in front of his translucent eyes and his shoulders slumped forward into a hunch - a far cry from the arrogant stance of the boy Harry had been rivals with. It was difficult to consider Malfoy a rival now that he saw him as a Death Eater. Perhaps 'enemy' was closer suited considering he was working with the man who had killed his parents.

Harry tipped three quarters of his Lacewing Flies into his cauldron. "I know it was you."

Malfoy neglected to answer, copying Harry's step robotically.

"Katie Bell is in a coma in St. Mungos. _You _did that. I know you did. You're so easy to figure out." Harry whispered.

Mafoy's hand stilled over his cauldron. He looked up, his gaze poison through his fringe.

"Would you like a medal?"

Harry gaped. Was that an _admission_. "So you did do it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Said Malfoy, muttering an incantation under his breath and setting the contents of his cauldron alight. They burned a perfect magenta.

Harry threw his Tentacula seeds into a beaker.

"You're full of shit, Malfoy."

Malfoy sighed. "A Gryffindor is in possession of an illegal cursed object and she hurts herself. What a surprise. Let's blame the Slytherins. A Slytherin is in possession of an illegal cursed object and suddenly he's a Death Eater." He drawled. "Also your Concoction isn't supposed to be that colour. I thought you were meant to be Slughorn's little Potions prince. Although I did notice he's not exactly paying you attention lately. Is that what's got you flailing about like a Confounded Flobberworm?"

Harry seethed, correcting his mistake. A second later his flames were the same colour as Malfoy's.

"You're awfully chatty for someone who's mere marks away from failing." Harry spat back. "As for the 'cursed illegal object', Katie was under the _Imperius _curse when she got it. As someone who had his house searched for plenty of those, you should know how it ended up in her hands."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You've fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Every guilty person claims they were under the _Imperius _curse when they get found out."

Harry stirred his potion slowly. "Just like your father."

Harry expected to have a hex fired furiously his way, or even to be primitively shoved to the ground. He braced himself for it. Instead he was met with silence.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" He goaded. "Or is it because you know you're going to be in the exact same position when I catch you?"

"I thought I warned you, Potter," Malfoy murmured darkly, "Not to stick your nose into things you know nothing about."

Harry shrugged, chopping his Knotgrass. "It doesn't matter. Your lies are meaningless. I'll catch you."

Malfoy was staring at the movement of his hands. Harry stopped.

"Are you _listening_?"

Malfoy tugged the chopping board away from Harry. "You're meant to cut them into fine strips. Not large ones." He muttered, taking his own knife and chopping the Knotgrass _for _him. "This is such a simple Potion, Potter. How you're getting this wrong and not the Draught of Living Death, I honestly don't know."

Harry opened and closed his mouth. If it weren't for Malfoy's dead expression and his flat tone, he'd be certain he was joking.

"Malfoy"-

-"Yes, Potter." Malfoy heaved a sigh. "You're going to catch me. I was listening. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you didn't flunk something as easy as a Confusing Concoction. Slughorn will undoubtedly blame me, not you."

This was so different to what he expected. He'd been pushing for a fight, he was well aware, but Malfoy simply wasn't rising to it. He was either being incredibly smart about this or he genuinely didn't care what Harry had to say. Somehow, the latter idea infuriated Harry more. Malfoy pushed the chopping board back towards Harry, his Knotgrass lying in neat, fine strips. Harry grabbed them and scattered them chaotically into the cauldron. The silence in the wake of Malfoy's bizarre conduct yawned between them, and despite himself, Harry snorted a laugh.

"Inhale some Abraxan hair, did you?" Malfoy remarked.

"You're a Death Eater." Harry muttered, laughing. "And yet here you are telling me how to chop bloody Knotgrass. I can't believe this."

Malfoy stared at him like _he _was the one who was going mad. Harry could hardly dispute it. He was laughing in the face of evil. He must have ingested some of the fumes from his Confusing Concoction after all.

Harry Potter was unequivocally one of the strangest people Draco had ever met. They completed the rest of the task in silence. Every now and again Draco looked up and caught Potter shaking his head, seemingly in disbelief, or murmuring something unintelligible under his breath. The steam had caused a flush to rise on Potter's face, and his glasses had steamed up. Didn't the boy even know how to cast a simple _Impervius_? Draco almost did it for him before he realized how ridiculous that would make him look. He hadn't cut the Knotgrass to _help _Potter, as he'd mistakenly appeared to believe, but because he hated things being done incorrectly. True, his recent work in most of his classes would suggest otherwise, but usually Draco made sure his work was immaculate. There was a reason he was almost top of the year. Potter was an idiot if he thought he'd be able wind him up again. The comment about his father had been somewhat infuriating, yes, but it was also predictable. Draco had been prepared. He wouldn't show weakness in front of Potter again. So far, it was working. He wasn't about to fool himself into thinking he'd shaken Potter off his tail; the Gryffindor was too stubborn to give up his chase now. However he had thrown him. Just a little. It was quite satisfying actually, watching Potter's face morph to one of dumbstruck perplexity as Draco had chopped his Knotgrass. He was debating pulling another stunt to throw Potter off guard but the lesson was almost over and Slughorn was making his rounds. For the first time in a while, Draco had made a perfect Potion. Even Slughorn couldn't deny it as he gave Draco and Potter an approving nod. With an exhale of relief that the day was finally over, Draco bottled his Potion and brought it to the front, unwilling to acknowledge Potter's presence on his way out, despite feeling the heat of his stare on the back of his neck until there were at least three walls and two floors between them.

When he returned to the dorm, Blaise was admiring himself in the mirror, fully kitted out in dress robes.

"Where are you going?" Asked Draco, because he couldn't help himself.

"Slughorn's Christmas party." Blaise replied. "Don't get tetchy because I didn't ask you to be my date." He winked.

Draco didn't laugh. "Right. Well. Knock yourself out." He was too busy to dwell on something so low-grade as one of Slughorn's sanctimonious gatherings. He had a Vanishing Cabinet to fix, and very little time to do it before the holidays. A thought occurred to him. Would he be able to return to the Manor this Christmas in the light of the Dark Lord's decision to make it a temporary base? He had no intention of missing Christmas with his mother, but there was the issue of his transformation,which he could no longer do at home. That was something he'd have to think about later. As soon as Blaise left half an hour later to meet his mystery date, Draco made his way to the seventh floor.

He didn't think much of the decorations he saw on his way up, but he should have. The unmistakable din of a party reached Draco's ears as he vaulted the last stair. Fuck. Slughorn's party… was being held _here_? As Draco's bad luck would have it, it was. It was spread over two floors, in fact. Granted, the seventh floor was mainly accommodated by waiters, but there was no way he could sneak in and not be noticed. He'd just have to crash the party and make his way to the back of the corridor where the beckoning blank stretch of wall mocked him. _Fuck_.

It took only five minutes of unsuccessfully sneaking around before Draco was caught. By Filch no less.

"Let go of me!" Draco protested as the hobbling caretaker dragged him down to the sixth floor where the party was in full swing. "I just lost my invitation, that's all!"

"Oh ho ho, you're comin' wiv me, boy." Filch growled, spitting all over Draco's neck. To his horror, he was heaved right in front of Slughorn and - _fucking Potter_.

"Get your hands off me you filthy squib!" Draco pushed the caretaker off him in a rather unsuccessful attempt to regain some of his dignity.

"I found him loitering upstairs." Said Filch, "Claims he was invited."  
Draco ground his teeth. "Fine!" He spat in Slughorn's direction, "I gatecrashed, alright?"

He tried not to look at Potter, but Potter was staring at him, Draco's oddball distant cousin by his side. Interesting. He'd always suspected Potter and the Weasley girl were an item, not Loony Lovegood. It momentarily caught Draco off guard how… _put together _Potter looked. Unlike his positively mediocre dress robes at the Yule Ball, Potter almost looked presentable now, well dressed in rather nicely fitted black robes. Not that he had any excuse not to be. Potter could hire people to dress him if he wanted. They probably bowed at his feet for the opportunity to clothe the Chosen One. The very idea made Draco narrow his scowl directly at Potter.

Snape stepped into Draco's line of sight, snapping his connection with Potter. Draco resented that.

"I'll see to Mr. Malfoy." Snape said with the air of someone with an awful taste in their mouth. He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco resisted shrugging him off with all his might as the Professor led him out of the party and into a deserted corridor around the corner. He shoved him hard, and Draco nearly fell.

"What… are you playing at?" He enunciated with furious precision.

Draco straightened himself. "I was _trying _to get to the Cabinet! Who's stupid bloody idea was it to have this here? Didn't you even try to stop it?"

"My task is to protect you, Draco, not aid you." Snape retorted. "I made an Unbreakable Vow to make sure you are not killed, and so far you are not making it easy for me to keep it."

"If I'm killed it'll be because you stopped me from doing what I've got to!" Draco shouted. "I was chosen! Me! Not you. Leave me alone." Even as he said it, the Curse battled inside Draco's chest - the adrenaline of being caught matched next to his confrontation with Potter and Snape began riling him to the point where it was getting dangerous again. His skin prickled and he rubbed his arm.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Are you in pain?" He queried.

"That brainless squib hauled me around like a piece of meat. He should be sacked for abusing students." With that, Draco swept past Snape and made for the stairs. He couldn't go back to his dorm like this. He felt like he was about to explode. There was only one thing for it. Sir Gregory the Smarmy's statue had an expression that was as oily as ever, and proved a strange comfort to Draco as he slipped into the tunnel towards the Forbidden Forest.

The Curse was practically zinging through his body at the prospect of being set free. After all, it had only been a couple of weeks since the last time. Usually he waited months until he couldn't bear it anymore.

Draco had neglected to bring clean clothes. He hadn't had the time. So he discarded his own by a distinct tree with an S shaped trunk, shivering in the snow and feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever as he stepped into the clearing. Fat snowflakes fell against his skin, and he felt each one melt against him, the coldness gradually dissipating as the Curse heated him from his core.

He hardly had time to prepare himself before the Curse took him over completely. This time, he would make sure not to breach the canopy of the trees. As thrilling as it was, he couldn't risk anymore blatherings from tell-tale Hufflepuffs. Draco transformed, growing even larger than last time, and the sky was his once again.

Harry raced back to his dorm to retrieve the map, his heart singing with success. Now he had proof that Malfoy was up to something _and_ that Snape was helping him. He had of course suspected his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher of dabbling in an alliance with Voldemort, but he hadn't dared to think for a second that he might be right. Harry had no idea what an Unbreakable Vow was, but if it was anything like the name suggested then the head of Slytherin house and his pupil were in a serious tangle. Harry felt bad for abandoning Luna but she'd seemed quite happy engaged in an animated conversation with a pair of vampires about Erumpent breeding habits.

The only person awake when he returned was Neville.

"Alright, Harry? How was the par"-

-"Neville, will you come with me?" Harry asked breathlessly, unsure exactly what he was planning yet.

"Erm, sure. Everything okay?"

"Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater." Harry whispered. Ron was snoring.

Neville blinked. "Righto." He snatched his cloak off the end of his bed, kicked on his shoes and accompanied Harry out of the Gryffindor common room. Harry grinned. He'd forgotten how great Neville could be in situations like this. He didn't over analyze or ask too many questions like Ron and Hermione. He was just there exactly when you needed. Harry felt a squirm of guilt for not including his two best friends, but he already knew how they'd react. It wasn't worth it.

On the run down the stairs, Harry took the map out and searched for Malfoy's name, frowning when he failed to spot him in the castle. They stopped on the second floor.

"Neville, can you see him on the map?"

Neville gaped at the map, and Harry wanted to kick himself. He'd forgotten Neville had never seen it before.

"Harry, _everyone _is on here, what the"-?

-"I promise I'll explain later. Just tell me if you can see Malfoy."

Letting out a low whistle at the Marauder's legacy, Neville gingerly took the map from Harry, scanning it.

He pointed. "There. The… _Christ_, that's the Forbidden Forest."  
Harry snatched the map back. Neville was right. Malfoy's label was in the heart of the forest and… wait… he was _zooming_, travelling at a pace far faster than running. He must be on a broom. But _why_? Harry had to find out.

"We have to catch him at it." Harry panted, bolting down corridor after corridor until they reached the grounds.

"Catch him"- _wheeze _\- "at" - _wheeze - _"what?" Asked Neville, red-faced from having to keep up.

"Dunno yet."

A thick, glittering blanket of snow spread amongst them, folding over hills and stones right to the dark line of the forest. Neville and Harry almost slid down the hill in their haste, guided onward by the stars above and the warm orange light projected from the small window in Hagrid's hut.

Neville doubled over, catching his breath. Harry peered at the treeline, wondering whether it was worth it. The Forbidden Forest was even darker than usual thanks to the thickets of snow covering every branch and blocking out even the meagre light from the stars. He'd never exactly been a fan of the place, but Malfoy was in there… doing evil things…

"What now?" Asked Neville, clutching a stitch on his side.

"I'm not sure." Said Harry.

"No offense, Harry but I really don't want to go in."

Harry couldn't condemn him for that. "Yeah. Nah. We won't go in. We'll wait."

Neville grimaced. "Alright."

Harry conjured a bench for the pair to sit on and cast a warming charm. Neville sighed with relief, sitting down.

"Scared me there, Harry." He said with a laugh. "I thought someone had been hurt. It felt like last year, you know… before…"

"Before the Ministry." Harry finished for him, casting his mind back to the sense of urgency they'd carried with them as they'd sprinted to the Forest and called upon the Thestrals for aid. And then Sirius...

"So about that map…" Said Neville.

Harry let out a breath, grateful for the interruption to his thoughts.

"It's a long story, but basically my dad and his mates made it when they were here, and then Fred and George got hold of it and then they gave it to me so I could sneak into Hogsmeade in third year. It's been pretty useful."

Neville was nodding. "Yeah, I can see why. You'd get into so much trouble if McGonagall found out though. Be careful."

Harry beamed. "Always am, Nev." _Except when I'm not_.

They waited for a long, long time. And all the while, Harry kept his eyes on the map, baffled by how Malfoy could be travelling at the speeds he was. Unless the map had malfunctioned, he was up to something very strange indeed. Harry thought of Buckbeak and flying around this same forest on his back years ago, but the chances of Malfoy riding on a hippogriff were just about as likely as Harry sitting down for tea with Bellatrix Lestrange. So what _was _he doing?  
More than an hour later, Neville gave a tremendous yawn beside him.

"Neville, you should go back." Said Harry after they'd been silent for some time.

"You should come too."

Harry shook his head. "I need to find out what he was doing, and I was the one who dragged you down here." Neville made a move to argue, but Harry continued, "If I'm not back in three hours, send someone down to look for me."

He nodded. "Alright. If you're sure. G'night, Harry."

"Night, Nev."

When the last of Neville's footsteps crunching into the snow had receded into silence, Harry spoke to Malfoy's name on the map, which was now making odd loops in figures of eight over a wide expanse of the Forest.

"Show yourself." He told it. "I know you're there."

It took another two whole hours before Harry was ready to give up. He hadn't noticed the warming charm gradually wear off, and his legs were blocks of ice when he stood from the bench. He vanished it, frustrated, and cast another charm on himself, shuddering as the heat ensconced him. He was still in his dress robes. He should have brought a cloak.

He hesitated, glancing between the castle and the trees. There was every chance he could be walking straight into a trap. Perhaps this was the plan. Or perhaps this was the only chance he could get. But before Harry had the chance to decide what to do, a pale figure emerged from the treeline, his torso and feet bare.

Harry stared, having no time to hide himself, and the figure stopped on the bank of the trees.

They stood like that for what felt like an age. He felt outside of time, outside of logic and reality.

"Malfoy." Said Harry, finally summoning the willpower to move. He took one step towards his enemy, and his enemy took one step back.

"Potter." He replied, his voice low and harsh. The quality of the sound unnerved Harry. There was an inhuman timbre about it. And it wasn't just his voice. Malfoy's appearance was startling. The only thing he wore on his top half was an unusual green pendant around a silver chain, the small plain charm nestled in the hollow of his throat. His bare seeker's build lurched forward as if to pounce, his usually neat hair parted and spread across his forehead carelessly.

It evoked a strange sensation deep in Harry's abdomen, and he withdrew his wand from his back pocket as the feeling rose inside him.

He pointed it at Malfoy, the _Sectumsempra _ready and waiting on his lips as their breaths puffed out swirls of mist into the expanse of space between them. It was the only sound before they were interrupted by another visitor. A ghostly swoop caught Harry's eye to Malfoy's left, and the boy's very own Eagle owl dropped a package straight into his hands before flying off again. Even Malfoy seemed surprised by the arrival, turning the package over, wide eyed.

"Open it." Harry ordered, jabbing his wand in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy stilled. "Why should I?" He rasped, his voice marred with the same animalistic tonality as before.

"Because I told you to." Harry continued, amazed by his own assertiveness.

He could see Malfoy weighing his options as he flicked his gaze between the package, Harry's wand, and Harry himself. He must have decided Harry was serious about his threat, for a moment later there was a faint rip as Malfoy carefully unwrapped the package.

Harry narrowed his eyes at its contents.

It was a mirror. That was all. There was no note. Only a handheld, round silver mirror that Malfoy now held delicately between his long, pallid fingers. The very sight of Malfoy holding it was an image on its own, and the strangeness of it almost dislodged Harry's caution as he stared.

"What is it?" He demanded.

Malfoy raised a brow, turning his attention back to him.

"Are you sure those hideous glasses of yours are adequate, Potter?" He remarked, his voice sounding a lot more normal now it was drenched in disdain.

"Don't be smart." Harry snapped. "Tell me what it's for."

Malfoy shook his head. "I don't know." He replied, eyeing Harry's wand again.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"  
"Do you really want me to answer that?"  
"Tell me the truth, Malfoy!"

"I am!"

Their voices ricocheted around the snow padded landscape, carrying into the forest. Harry couldn't tell whether Malfoy was lying or not, but the pucker in his brow and the way his chest was rising and falling made him believe he might be telling the truth, as much as he hated to admit it. In the distance, Hagrid's front door slammed. They both looked towards the sound like startled rabbits.

"Do you want them to find you like this?" Said Harry, raising his wand higher.

To his surprise, Malfoy only laughed.

"I should ask you the same. Who's the one fully dressed with his wand pointed at me? Looking like _this_?"

_Fuck_. Malfoy had a point. Out of the two of them, Harry certainly looked the most incriminating. But he did have his invisibility cloak, and Malfoy didn't know that. Voices sounded from the castle. He didn't have much time.

"Well?" Asked Malfoy, "What will it be?"

Harry clenched his jaw, heart hammering. "Tell me what you were doing."

"No. Way."

"Tell me and I'll hide you. I'll hide both of us."

Malfoy's eyes flashed in the dark. "What are you talking about?"

"My invisibility cloak. You know? The one you threw on top of me after breaking my nose on the train?" Harry said through gritted teeth as wand lights clustered at the top of the hill. "I can hide us under it."

He was off his rocker. This was his _enemy_. Malfoy might have been thinking the same, but they were quickly running out of options.

"Alright." Malfoy agreed. His lips curled into a smirk. "Come here, Potter."

Harry felt like he was walking into the jaws of a crocodile as he approached Malfoy, tugging his cloak free. He kept his wand out, pointed firmly at him.

"Try anything and I'll hex you."

"Noted." Said Malfoy, eyes twinkling with unmistakable amusement. Up close, he gave off a radiating heat that threw Harry off completely. He should be _freezing_.

Unable to believe what he was doing, Harry threw his cloak around both of them, closer to Malfoy than he'd been since the day he'd pushed him against the doorframe in the Owlery. Being the taller one out of the two of them, Malfoy took it upon himself to hold the cloak above them as they half-crouched, half-stood in the treeline. As a result, one of his arms was thrown around Harry's shoulders. He was surprisingly lean, Harry thought as the teachers reached the spot he'd been stood in moments earlier, his footprints still visible in the snow. He'd expected Malfoy to be nothing but skin and bones after the way he'd looked over the past couple of months, but that simply wasn't the case. He was thinner, yes, but still distinctly muscular, and he gave off an earthy, citrusy aroma. It wasn't all too unpleasant, Harry thought, catching himself actively _inhaling _Malfoy's scent too late. The whole experience was bizarre. This wasn't how Harry pictured this going down at all, and he was even more shocked to discover all of his anger had evaporated in light of the situation he was in. All he could think was: _what the fuck? _

Snape was the closest to the forest. He shone his wand in the direction of the trees, eyes narrowed. Hagrid loped behind.

"Are you sure you saw them, Hagrid?" He asked, skeptical.

"Yer damn well right, I did." Hagrid insisted, "Two of 'em… one of 'em looked like…"

"Like who?" Asked McGonagall sharply.

Hagrid scratched his beard. "Well… nevermin'... it was far away, after all."

Harry silently thanked Hagrid. Obviously he'd seen him, but chosen not to tell. Harry risked a glance up at Malfoy. His face was set in stone, so blanched his features could have been carved from marble. He met Harry's eye.

They were stuck here until the teachers decided to leave. Thanks to the snow, they couldn't run under the cloak. Their footprints would be seen. This was Harry's stupid idea after all. Harry shook his head as though to convey this.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

The whole of Malfoy's left arm was visible to Harry now, and he was amazed (and disappointed) to see that it was devoid of markings. No defining skull and snake inked onto his forearm. Just smooth, white skin peppered with light golden hairs and prominent blue veins, his bicep tensed with the effort of holding the cloak above their heads for so long. Harry felt pathetic and stupid, crouched under his so-called nemesis without either the courage nor evidence to step out from under the cloak and proclaim Malfoy guilty, and with Snape right here there was no chance. He sucked in a deep breath of frustration and Malfoy shot him a look of pure panic.

"_Shut the fuck up!" _He mouthed.

"_Or what?" _Harry mouthed back. "_You'll curse me too?" _

Malfoy rolled his eyes again. "_So dramatic." _He silently snickered, full of humour. Harry searched his face for malice but found none. He looked like a different person. The mirror in Malfoy's other hand winked Harry's own disbelieving green eyes back at him.

This was getting weirder by the second.

Whole minutes passed this way, and it was a while before the teachers gave up and headed back to the castle, grumbling amongst themselves.

Snape lingered, shining his wand at the trees one last time.

"Piss… off…" Malfoy whispered at Snape, quiet enough so only Harry could hear, and they both let out a sigh of relief once the teachers were well out of sight.

Malfoy looked down at him. "Your wand is stabbing me in the ribs."

Harry jabbed it in harder, waiting for Malfoy to wince. He didn't. Bastard.

"What were you doing in the forest?"

Malfoy feigned disappointment. "Really? You're interrogating me already? You don't want to celebrate our successful little insurgency against the same staff who do nothing but sing your praises?"

"Not Snape." Said Harry. "He hates me."  
"He wouldn't be the only one." Said Malfoy. "Ow."

Harry allowed himself a smirk, and removed some of the pressure. He really shouldn't be enjoying this.

"So? Tell me what you were doing, Malfoy, or I'll make sure they come right back."

All trace of amusement was wiped off Malfoy's face. It was incredible how much just a change of expression transformed him back into the boy Harry was familiar with. He almost mourned the loss of Malfoy's amused smile until he remembered who he was talking to.

Malfoy withdrew from Harry's side, pulling the cloak off them both and handing it back. Harry took it, taking care to keep his wand pointed at him.

"I needed to get out." Said Malfoy flatly.

Harry scowled. "You gatecrashed the party."

"Shouldn't be surprising."

"You're right. But why?"

Malfoy's eye twitched ever so slightly. "There were reporters there. I've been trying to clear my family's name for months, Potter."

It made sense. Of course it did. But Harry knew that can't have been the only reason.

"And the Room of Requirement? You go there all the time. I've seen you."

"I let you have one question." Said Malfoy, his voice low.

"And you haven't answered it!"

Malfoy sneered. "Yes I did, you simply didn't like the answer. I needed to get out. I needed to..." He gave a single, humourless laugh, "spread my wings."

"You were on a broom or something." Said Harry, "Flying."

Malfoy took a step back. "How did you know that?"

"Honesty goes both ways, Malfoy." Harry said, relishing the look of pure distaste that spread across the Slytherin's face. It sobered Harry, how much like his father Malfoy appeared when he used that expression.

"Then we've reached a dead end." Said Malfoy. "There's no need for more questions, Potter. We helped each other"-

-"_I _helped _you_"-

-"And we needn't say anything else to one another." Malfoy reached into his front pocket, withdrew a shrunken piece of fabric, and restored it to its original size, revealing a simple black shirt. He did all of this non-verbally and held Harry's gaze as he buttoned it around his pale frame. The plain green pendant Harry had noticed earlier was concealed as Malfoy fastened the shirt up to this throat. He wondered whether it bore some significance. Harry had never really pictured Malfoy wearing jewelry. Then again, he had said his mother had sent him a 'trinket.' The Malfoy's could be dripping in jewels for all he knew. They could certainly afford it.

Harry was at a loss. He couldn't tell whether he'd won or lost. He couldn't tell whether either of them had, or even whether there had even been anything to win or lose in the first place.

"One word of advice, Potter." Malfoy began, "It isn't wise to tell your enemy you think you've guessed their plans, because they'll only come up with better ways to avoid you."

Harry slowly lowered his wand, his breath hitching in his throat as Malfoy turned to leave, tossing his mirror in the air and catching it deftly.

"One more question," Harry burst out. Back to him, Malfoy half turned his head. "What kind of perception charm did you use on Zacharias Smith?"

Malfoy's shoulders bunched in a scoff. "Smith is full of it, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "He never had much of an imagination."

"I can't say the same for you." Said Malfloy, already walking away from Harry towards the castle. "You've been imagining all sorts. Perception charm, indeed." His bare feet were blue amongst the snow. Wasn't he _cold? _

"And don't go blabbing about this to your little army if you know what's good for you!" Malfoy's last call echoed in the night as his blond head faded away into darkness, matching the snow surrounding them.

Draco greatly resented the fact he'd just had more fun hiding from teachers with the bloody Chosen One than he'd had with a single one of his supposed actual friends in eons. It truly was a testament to how fucked his life was. Everything about Potter's reaction to finding him had been priceless. True, Draco had nearly shit himself when he'd strolled from the forest half naked to find the golden boy himself standing there and only bloody _waiting _for him, but he hadn't seen anything important, so where was the harm? If anything, Potter was more likely to think of Malfoy as merely another headcase rather than a Death Eater at this point, which worked very well in Draco's favour. Not that Potter would stop stalking him, of course. That much was clear from the incessant fervor in Potter's ridiculous green eyes as he'd left him in the snow, a thousand questions hanging in the air. Truth be told, Draco felt incredible after tonight. Even just gliding through the trees had proven satisfactory to the Curse, and as a result he felt stronger for it. His limbs no longer ached. The constant headache had gone. His exhaustion had given way to a metallic buzz that mixed pleasantly with the adrenaline from a night of flying and evading teachers with his arch nemesis.

Draco had been truthful when he'd told Potter he hadn't known what the mirror meant, but now that he could properly inspect it he recognized the tiny initials etched into the silver rim: _N. B_.

Draco went straight to the Room of Requirement. Slughorn's party was over All traces of confetti, Butterbeer and glitter long vanished as though the entire affair had never happened. He slipped inside unnoticed, pulling out the mirror and speaking to his own reflection.  
"Narcissa Black…" He said clearly and then, "Mother."

His mother's face appeared instantly. Draco had to refrain from wincing. She looked tired - even tireder than he had as of late.

"Oh, my boy. I knew you would understand what the mirror meant." Said his mother.

"Of course I understood." Draco beamed, willing himself not to cry. Merlin, he'd missed her. No one else on this earth spoke to him like she did. Full of love.

"How are you?" He asked, whispering despite being totally alone in the enormous maze of a room.

She averted her gaze, red lips struggling to form words. "I… am alright."  
"Mother. Be honest with me. You look exhausted."  
She gave a low laugh. "I am happy to see that you are well. Weller than I expected."

Draco neglected to mention his 'wellness' was due to transforming for far longer than he was ever allowed to at home, and that he'd just spent the past half an hour with the very boy they were trying to bring down, albeit because he'd almost been caught.

"They're not hurting you, are they?" He asked, noticing his mother's haunted expression.

She shook her head. "No. But it's hard to get a moment. Especially in the daytime. I cannot stay long."

Draco nodded. "Mother, about Christmas"-

-"Come home." She said quickly. She swallowed thickly. "The Dark Lord has requested your presence, Draco."

Draco's heart sank like lead, and dread unfurled in his gut.

"Did the Dark Lord say why he wants to see me?" He asked tightly.

She shook her head. "I heard it from Bella. She seemed… excited."

Draco grimaced. He couldn't help himself. But he had no fear of being reprimanded by his mother. He knew she shared the same distaste for his aunt as he did.

"Are you allowing Severus to watch over you, Draco?"

Draco tutted. "You really shouldn't have made such a pointless agreement with him. The meddling bat won't leave me alone for five minutes."

In spite of Draco's scorn, his mother's eyes brightened for it. "Keep him close when the time comes. He will help you. He'll help all of us."

"But what about when I _have _to be on my own, mother? Surely you don't want him to discover me."

"And has he?" Asked Narcissa, raising a brow. Draco shook his head. "Then there is no need to fear as long as you are careful." She smiled at him, searching his face. "I have to go."  
"Mother, wait a minute." He drew in a deep breath. "The curse on the necklace… _Aeterna Somnum_… what does it do?"

Her face darkened. "It is the curse of eternal sleep." At the look on his face, she continued, "Yes, I heard what happened to Miss Bell. She will survive, Draco. She didn't touch it fully. Your conscience is clear. It was an accident."

Draco wanted to argue that his conscience was anything _but _clear, but his mother was leaving.

"I won't fail next time." He whispered, staring at his lap. The skin on his bare feet was cracked from the cold. He hadn't even noticed. He was turning into a monster. He closed his eyes as his mother said,

"You could never fail me, Draco. I love you."

And then she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Praeculo Perpetuum _

It was Christmas day, and Draco felt on the verge of collapse as Narcissa straightened his collar for him one final time. They stood in the drawing room, waiting for their visitors. Upon his return from school, Draco had felt no life within these rooms or the halls he'd run down as a child. The coming and going of the Dark Lord's servants had steadily taken its toll on Malfoy Manor, turning it into a place infused with Dark magic - and not the kind it was used to. Old magic had roamed these corridors for centuries, but the blood spilled here was fresh. The scent of death lingered in the air, desaturating the landscape and casting an eerie fog over the grounds. His entire world was grey and black and white, from the suit he wore to his reflection in the mirror.

"There," Narcissa breathed with a tight smile, stepping back to admire her son. "Much better."

Draco was used to shirts buttoned up to his neck. He needed them to hide the pendant. But today he felt constrained by it. Like a prisoner in his own clothes. He brought his fingers to his throat, pulling fruitlessly at the stiff fabric.

"After this, I'll be a…" He couldn't finish the sentence. After today he would be different. Everything would be different.

"Yes." His mother nodded. "Your father would be"-

-"Proud?" Draco interrupted, his voice coming out harder than he'd intended.

Narcissa looked at the floor, lowering her voice to a whisper. "You know why he needs you to do this. You know it's safer this way."

Draco swallowed back the lump in his throat. "And what would you have me do, mother? Run away and hide my shame?"

His mother's black eyes pooled with tears. "No, my darling. Never. The Malfoys are proud. Do you understand? You are no different."

"As long as I remain in the shadows, you mean? As long as no one ever knows." He stepped towards her, "Mother, the Curse is getting stronger. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to stay here."

She frowned. "What do you mean, Draco?"

What _did _he mean? Draco wished he could answer that himself. All he knew was that suppressing the desire to transform was costing him everything. With every breath, the Curse licked the back of his throat. With every blink, it offered him a glimpse of the form he could be, flying high over trees and cliffs. It was alive and reeling inside him. He had mere days before it would transform him against his will. He could _feel _it. He closed his eyes against the calling of his core, and when he opened them again his mother had gone pale.

"Oh, my darling." She breathed. He had no idea what she had seen in him in that moment, but he was quite sure it had been enough to convince her he was on the edge of breaking.

"You see, mother? I can't"-

The wards chimed as their visitors arrived. It was Yaxley who opened the drawing room doors, nodding for Narcissa and Draco to assert their presence in the hall. As he passed, Draco wondered when his mother had lost authority in her own home. She walked with her head bowed, shoulders slumped. So much for Malfoy pride, he thought bitterly.

Yaxley clapped Draco on the shoulder.

"I trust all is in order?" He all but growled in Draco's ear.

"Yeah." Draco replied, struggling to sound convincing. "I mean… I still have to fix it but it won't be long."

Yaxley gave him a wide-toothed leer. "You're a good'un. I always said our kids were the future, din't I, Narcissa? You kids are what'll make this whole thing work. You're our fuckin' future!"

He laughed, exuding a sharp tang of Firewhiskey. Draco tried not to cringe.

Yaxley's laughter died down when they entered the grand hallway. Draco instinctively held his breath at the sight of their visitors.

There he was - the Dark Lord himself, flanked by Bellatrix and Peter Pettigrew. Behind them entered Fenrir Greyback and Dolohov. Draco had always found Dolohov intensely irritating. He walked like his balls were bigger than his head. He was doing it now, strutting into the hallway and chomping on something noisily. The Dark Lord stood in the centre, his white face tipped up and his eyes shut. It was with a chilling sigh that he opened the red slits Draco found difficult to call eyes and laid them upon Draco and his mother.

"Narcissa…" He announced, hissing on the 's's. She came to stand by him, eyes aimed at the floor. He cradled her face with his long white hands, not quite touching her but probing the air around her.

"And," He said, sweeping past her to loom over Draco, "The star of the show."  
Draco bowed his head. "My Lord." He said, as clearly as he could manage. The Curse bristled under the Dark Lord's penetrative gaze, and he willed it down with all the energy he could muster.  
A hiss that did not come from Voldemort sounded from the doorway, and Draco risked a glance. Nagini slithered into view, her vivid scales flashing in the gloom. His stomach did a nauseating somersault. The snake invoked within him a very different kind of fear altogether. She rose impressively, tasting the air before finally turning her great head towards Draco. They locked eyes, and for a moment he was certain she knew. She saw the Curse.

"Let us get more comfortable, shall we?" Said Voldemort to the whole room. Bellatrix giggled and skipped over to Draco, ruffling his hair.

"Hello, Aunt Bella." He said weakly, quite unable to look at her face as they filed into the living room. Her eyes were laced with tiny red veins and her hair was a wild nest tangling over her shoulders. He briefly wondered if she was on something.

"Dracooooo!" She cooed, pushing him forward and out of the hallway. "Come, Draco, come. It's an exciting day!"

"That it is, Bella." The Dark Lord agreed from where he now stood in front of the fireplace, its flames turning purple as he absently swirled his wand amidst them.

The sight of the fire kindled the Curse once more, and Draco swallowed hard.

"It is a shame your dear father couldn't be here for this moment, Draco." Said the Dark Lord, "But that will soon be rectified, will it not, Yaxley?"

"Aye, My Lord." Yaxley chimed, licking his lips. Draco stared between them. So it was true. They _were _planning a breakout. Someone had leaked it.

As if reading his mind, the Dark Lord said, "There is a traitor in our midst." The whole room went silent. "I know not who, but be certain I shall weed them out and pluck them from our ranks."

Draco did not dare look at his mother. If the truth of the Curse was revealed, they'd be branded traitors for sure, even if they weren't responsible for this particular crime.

The silence stretched on for an uncomfortable time, and Bella began singing in a whisper:

"_I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black…" _She stopped and burst into manic howls of laughter that rang throughout the room. Draco hadn't thought it was possible for his aunt to get any crazier. Clearly he'd been wrong.

"Come here, Draco." Said the Dark Lord.

Draco hesitated. _Now? _They were doing it _now_? He'd known the ceremony was happening today, he'd just expected… build up. A pre warning. No. The Dark Lord didn't do pre-warnings. If you were committed to the cause, you were as good as your word. And Draco had to be as good as his word, or… He shared a look with his mother. She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, the sincerity of which was betrayed by her eyes.

As Draco walked across the solid oak floorboards to stand in front of his master, he contemplated the actions that had brought him to this point.

Being born.

That was it.

The Dark Lord didn't know about the poisoned mead. He didn't care about the necklace. He didn't care for the methods Draco was using to complete his task. None of that had brought him here. Draco was a Malfoy, and that was enough to qualify him for this.

"Kneel."

Draco desperately hoped no one could see him quivering as he knelt.

"Give me your arm."

Draco slowly uncuffed the shirt sleeves on his left arm and rolled them up to his elbow, revealing his clean, blank forearm. He stared at it as he offered the canvas of skin to the Dark Lord.

Voledmort snatched his wrist, long fingernails digging into Draco's skin. He gasped, unable to help himself, and heard low murmured laughs scatter throughout the room. He bit his tongue, daring to look into the face of the man who was about to brand him.

The Dark Lord was smiling. It was the smile from Draco's nightmares.

He raised his wand, pressing the tip hard against his bare arm. Draco was haltingly reminded of the moment Potter had jabbed his wand into his ribs. He refocused, sure the Dark Lord would be able to sense any traitorous thoughts.

"_Tenebris Marcum." _The Dark Lord uttered, and for an incredible moment Draco thought it was over. Painless. Quick. The tip of his wand glowed crimson, then he hissed, "_Praeculo Perpetuum." _And a searing, blinding pain scalded Draco's arm.

He grunted through it, squeezing his eyes shut as the large mark perforated him all at once. It felt like his arm was on fire. _Fire_.

_No… not now_.

The Curse screamed inside him, rattling inside its cage like a wild thing. The pain lasted for far longer than he'd anticipated. It was meant to, he realized. And the Dark Lord's insane cackling died into the distance as Draco buried himself in the pain.

_I don't want this_, he thought, knowing it to be true. He didn't want this, and here he was; branding himself as one of them forever.

And now he could never go back.

As soon as the thought came, the pain went, and Draco was left hauling in breaths in an undignified heap in front of his own hearth.

"At least he didn't cry," Came Dolohov's snort, "Lucius snivelled like a little baby."

"And as far as I remember, Dolohov, you applied a cooling charm moments after."

Raucous jeers filled the room, dragging Draco back to the present. There was a hand on his forehead. His mother's.

"Come on, Draco." She was saying, _begging_, "Stand up."

He did so with her help, stumbling upright and leaning against the fireplace for support.

The pair of them stood like that, huddled together as the rest of the Death Eaters laughed. Yaxley caught Draco's eye and gave him an approving nod. It said _solidarity_. It said _you're one of us now_.

Draco forced himself to look at his arm, at the mark that didn't belong there. It was vivid black against his light skin, the snake in the skull's mouth writhing with pleasure. He felt empty as he watched it, sensing his mother's and the Dark Lord's eyes on him.

"Not even a smile." The Dark Lord remarked, "I must ask why, Draco, you do not appreciate my gift."

Fear quelled inside Draco as he humbled himself in front of the Dark Lord once more, kneeling by his side.

"Apologies, My Lord. I don't know what to say."

"This is the day of giving, is it not?" The Dark Lord addressed the entire room. "So, Draco, you shall treat this as what it is. A gift from your master, to you. Suffice to say you have not yet earned it. I hear your efforts have failed, so far. So consider this a motivation to succeed."

"Yes, My Lord." Draco said obediently, hoping his heart would slow down. Blood and adrenaline rushed through every vein, clamouring in his ears. "I won't let you down, My Lord."

The Dark Lord gave another of his lipless smiles, tipping Draco's head up with a long finger placed under his chin.

"You are a clever boy, Draco. Severus has told me much of your talent with Potions. Dumbledore" - he spat the name - "will be dead by the end of June, by your hand. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco nodded, choking out another "Yes, My Lord."

The Curse was filling his chest, strangling him from the inside and heating his lungs. A savage hiss sounded from Voldemort's ankles, and Nagini slithered around him, her tongue flicking in the air.

She could taste his fear. Draco tried to drown it out with thoughts of what had just happened, fixating on the tattoo on his arm instead of the Curse's incessant grip on his heart.

He had to get out of here. Soon. He met his mother's eye as the Dark Lord turned his back and made to leave. She gave him a tiny nod, and he understood what she was going to do a second before she did.

"My Lord," Narcissa said, bowing with a more convincing grace than Draco could ever hope to achieve, "I beg you allow Draco to return to school tomorrow. He has much to complete and I fear his efforts here will be wasted."

Draco thought that if the Dark Lord had eyebrows, he would have raised one. He ignored Narcissa, choosing to regard Draco instead.

"My, the boy is keen. You wish to return?"

Draco nodded sharply. His knee was hurting from staying in this position for so long.

"I must fix the Cabinet, My Lord. I think of little else."

The Dark Lord barked a single laugh. "Then we shall not keep you! Go, my boy. Go, and…" The Dark Lord trailed off, a horrifying expression of what Draco could only interpret as excitement dawning on his face, "But first. Bella!" He snapped his fingers. Bellatrix scarpered to his side.

"My Lord," She bowed, practically scraping the floorboards with her nose.

"You have a venture planned for this evening, do you not?"

Bellatrix's eyes gleamed with fervour. "Yes, My Lord! Yes, yes!" She began humming the tune to "_I killed Sirius Black" _again.

"Take young Draco with you." Said the Dark Lord with relish, "It can be his… debut."

If Draco had known the 'venture' Bellatrix had planned was an ambush on the Weasley family, he would have done everything he could to refuse. As it was, he was side-alonged with Fenrir Greyback to the cold marshes outside of the Weasley family home.

"It's time to teach these Blood Traitors a lesson." The Werewolf snarled, reeking of old blood and sweat.

Draco stood alone, unable to move as the other Death Eaters marched towards the rickety house without fear.  
Was Potter here? And Granger? Who else? Perhaps the entire Order was here. What if they found him?

"Stay back, Draco!" Bellatrix ordered, "And learn what happens to those who would smear our names with filthy blood."

For a while, there was silence. There was nothing but the swish of wind rocking the reeds and the freezing water of the marsh soaking Draco to his ankles. He clutched his arm, the sleeve still rolled up. The Mark burned where he touched it, and he tentatively withdrew his hand, hating himself for what had just occurred. Hating himself for displaying such cowardice in the face of his superiors. More than anything, he wanted to be with his mother. But he'd been yanked away before he'd even been able to process it.

A burst of flame - _more, flame! _\- filled his vision, alighting the world before diffusing into a circle of fire around the Weasley's house. There were shouts now. Cries filled with anguish and anger following the flames. Draco tripped backwards in his haste to get away, almost falling into the water. Spells flashed. They were close.

"I killed Sirius Black!" Bellatrix's ecstatic singing sounded over the roar of fire. And then -

"Come back!"

_Potter_.

It was unmistakably Potter's voice.

Draco threw himself through the reeds in the opposite direction. He couldn't be seen. He couldn't blow his cover -

He collided with another body, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. He withdrew his wand, righting himself before she did.

The woman was upright in no time, her bubblegum pink hair framing her slim face and bright eyes.

Nymphadora Tonks. His _cousin_.

She stared, blinking, before her features contorted into true dislike.

"Malfoy." She spat. Draco moved to pull down his sleeve, but Tonks' eyes found the mark before he could. Her mouth dropped open.

"Harry was right…"  
"_Obliviate!" _Draco yelled before Tonks could go any further. The spell struck her violently, her eyes going blank before rolling back into her head. She fell backwards into the water, unconscious.

Draco had never performed a memory charm. He hadn't even had a purpose in mind when he cast this one.

"Fuck…" He muttered, rooted to the spot. Now what? Tonks wasn't moving. Her bright hair dulled to a mousy brown, growing into the murky water.

Should he _do _something? She was a member of the Order. She was his enemy. But what if he'd wiped her memory clean by mistake? He hadn't meant to. He only wanted her to forget this moment.

Shouts echoed closer. And they didn't belong to his aunt or the Werewolf.

Draco bolted, leaving his cousin unconscious in the marsh.

For the first time since coming home, the Curse was quiet. And that brought no comfort to Draco at all.

He couldn't sleep that night. His large bed remained cold, his body refusing to heat in the wake of what he had done tonight. The image of Tonks' eyes rolling back into her head and his own spell echoing into the silence replayed on a loop inside his head. He should be happy. He hadn't been caught. He'd acted fast, silencing his blood-traitor cousin before she could blab his name to the enemy and ruin his plans for good.

He tossed and turned, resolving to lie and stare at the canopy of his king-sized four poster until the dead of night had well passed.

"_Draco…" _

Draco shot up in bed, his insides going cold at the sound. He'd heard his name, he was sure of it. Or perhaps this was it. He'd truly lost the plot on account of all the stress. He blinked in the dark, grasping his wand from under his pillow.

"_Lumos." _

His bedroom was empty. He'd packed any and all childhood items away at the start of term, his ethos being that he had to leave his past behind him. An inkling of regret stirred inside him at the decision. All sense of familiarity had been stripped from the place he used to call home. All was silent and empty and still, aside from a single white curtain that floated in the breeze from his open window.

He stopped.

His window had been closed when he'd gone to bed.

"_Draco…" _The hiss sounded again. Unless the Dark Lord himself was hiding in his bedroom, Draco had no idea where it had come from. Was this a nightmare?

Mustering all of his courage, he jumped out of bed, turning on the spot.

"Who's there?" He whispered.

A cold, silken brush against his ankles filled him with unfathomable dread. He looked down to find Nagini wrapping herself around his legs. He froze, mouth agape in terror. The snake's massive body was still slithering out of his open window, the rest of it finally dropping with a sickening _thud _into his room. Her head came to rest against his knee.

He couldn't move. He couldn't _breathe_.

"_...Good Evening." _The snake said.

Draco didn't understand. He wasn't a Parselmouth like the Dark Lord or Potter, so how could he hear her?

"N-Nagini." He said probingly. "How can you speak to me?"

The snake gave a juddering hiss that sounded exactly like a snigger.

"_It is not to you I ssspeak, but to your core. It is what connects usss." _

Low and behold, his Curse sat comfortably inside his chest, and he realized it was translating Nagini's words _for _him. He was done for.

"You can sense it. The… the Curse." He said as Nagini tightened her body around his legs, propelling herself further up until her face was level with his.

Draco had always found a certain affinity with snakes; summoning one in his first duel with Potter and craving one as a pet since he'd been a small child. His fucking house crest had a snake on it for crying out loud. But faced with Voldemort's creature like this was rapidly changing his mind.

Her yellow eyes bored into his own.

"_Our natures can ssspeak to each other, Draco. You sssensed it when you saw me firssst, didn't you? Deep down, you knew… we are the sssame." _

"W-we are?" Draco stammered. Nagini was cursed like him? Then…? "You're _human?" _He blurted.

Nagini slunk delightedly around him, twisting her body until she was more comfortably resting against his shoulder. She was heavy. Drago sagged under her weight, but he was too terrified to sit down.

"_Our kind have exisssted since long before the mortals you and I share mealsss with, Draco."_ Her tongue flicked the pulse on his neck. He shuddered. "_We are neither human nor beassst… well… you aren't. I denounced my human form yearsssssss ago…" _

"Why?" Asked Draco, lowering his wand hand. He didn't dare put out the light. Being in total darkness with Nagini would be even more terrifying than this blood curdling closeness.

"_Becausssssse… it was the safessssst thing to do." _

Draco slowly pivoted on his heel until he was facing his bed. Nagini slumped from his shoulder and slithered onto his white silken sheets, releasing him from her weight. She coiled in the blankets and gave an unmistakable sigh.

"_Sssssso long since I've been able to talk to sssomeone who wasn't massster…" _

Draco's breaths were coming in panicked bursts. "Nagini," He whispered, "Will you tell him what I am? I'll get in trouble. Please… don't…"

Nagini laughed again, nestling further into his sheets. She took up his whole bed she was so large.

"_I will not… only becaussse… I wish to sssee what you will do… I get sssooo bored…"_

Draco debated the snake's reasons for not relaying his secret, but he was relieved nonetheless.

"Thank you." He breathed. "I mean, I'm sure you understand."

Nagini raised her head, regarding him. "_I cannot wait for the day you are consssumed…" _

Foreboding sent a jolt through him. "Consumed?" He asked, unsure whether he actually wanted the answer.

"_I cannot be human again," _Said Nagini, "_Even if I wished it… the sssame will happen to you if you treat your gift with sssuch… contempt." _

"I don't understand."

Nagini began to scale his bedpost, licking the gargoyle carving at its corner.

"_You will…" _She said with promise, "_Sssuch a niccce… houssse…." _With alarming speed, she slithered away from his bed and returned to the window.

"_Time for a midnight sssnack… Goodnight, Dragon…" _

"G-Goodnight." He replied, marvelling at the fact he was talking to a snake. The Dark Lord's snake, no less. She'd called him _Dragon… _

Draco returned to bed, trying hard not to think about what had just been coiled up in his sheets. Nagini was like _him_? How had it happened to her? Did the curse run through her family as Draco's did his? And what did she mean, 'cons(_ss_)umed'? The questions burned in his brain until the light of dawn. He did not sleep a wink that night, and arose before his mother had awoken, packing the little of the things he'd brought home with him to leave for school.

He left her a note in the drawing room where Yaxley was slumped in his father's favourite armchair, snoring loudly.

_The next time you see me, I will have won. No more running. - D _

It had been two weeks since the attack, and Tonks was still in St. Mungos. The trio were quiet on their train ride back to Hogwarts. Ron was particularly pale on the journey. He'd wanted to stay and help rebuild the house. They were well on their way to restoring it by the time they'd left, but there was still much to be done. Effects of the war were steadily building, reminding them all how little time was left. Harry wondered what the point of him being the Chosen One was if he couldn't do so much as prevent his best friend's home from burning. He loathed that Bellatrix had goaded him into a fight. Her song still haunted him, exactly as it had since the night she'd murdered his godfather. He vowed that if no one else died, she would.

As for Tonks, Harry had no idea who had done that to her - but they would pay.

Thankfully, she remembered them. But almost a year's worth of her memories had been lost. Remus had to tell her about Sirius' death all over again. They'd been stood around her bedside, forced to watch her face crumple with grief once more as he relayed the news. Harry's heart had rebroken watching it happen, her sobs reminders of his own. They'd left her like that, crying into Remus' arms for a second time for the same reason. It was so unfair. So cruel. Harry hated Voldemort with a fresh, burning rage, and he had no idea what to do about it. He'd _thought _he'd been doing something about it before the holidays, but now he wasn't so sure.

Memories of the night he'd spent hiding at the edge of the forest with Malfoy had distracted him all holiday. Their interaction had been confusing at the very least. And that was putting it lightly. Malfoy's possible Death Eater status was still a huge question mark in Harry's head. That night had made him reconsider everything despite the fact he _knew _he was up to something. His conversation with Snape, the little Harry had heard of it, was significant in itself. He just had to find out exactly _how_. On top of that, he still hadn't told Ron and Hermione what he'd been doing that night. He didn't know how. He'd either get told off for still thinking Malfoy was a Death Eater or faced with having to explain why he'd chosen to hide their least favourite Slytherin under his invisibility cloak, and he wouldn't know where to begin with that one. He hadn't known why he'd done it himself. Sheer panic, was maybe the best answer, but surely letting them both get caught would have been easier, at least on his psyche.

Dumbledore's calling came the moment Harry set foot back in Hogwarts and he was reminded yet again how badly they needed to get hold of Slughorn's real memory. Harry dreamt of the tampered one, of young Tom Riddle's dead eyes and his question before it became muffled by whatever Slughorn had done to it. Then the dream more than not often morphed into something involving Malfoy at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, staring Harry down with a strange look in his eye as he said, "_Come here, Potter" _beckoning with open arms and exposed bare torso. When Harry awoke from those dreams, the conflicting priorities within him clashed, and he always, _always _ended up checking the map. He hadn't laid eyes on Malfoy once yet. Not even at breakfast. The Slytherin didn't make his first appearance until their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Draco's face was even more hollowed out than it had been before the start of the Christmas holidays. He must have caught Harry staring, because more than once he glanced upward, meeting Harry's eye, before turning away without so much as a dirty look. No acknowledgement of their tryst on the night of Slughorn's party. Harry was disappointed. He'd thought of all kinds of arguments they could've had about it (ones he always won) over the holidays.

The bad news arrived on Sunday. It was the 7th of January, and there had been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

Every single Death Eater who'd been caught, from Goyle to Avery to Lucius Malfoy, was free.

Harry did not fail to notice Malfoy's absence from Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts the next day. Neither did Ron and Hermione. They gave Harry a worried look, and he recognized the doubt in their expressions.

"You see?" He whispered over his half-finished Ageing Potion, "I was right."  
"This doesn't prove anything, Harry." Said Hermione, "But it is…"

"Suspicious." Ron filled in.

Harry wished they'd stop finishing each other's sentences. So did Lavender apparently, because she was giving Hermione very filthy looks indeed, and they only intensified when Ron brushed her off to talk to Hermione.

But Harry didn't have time to linger on his best friend's love triangle - Blaise Zabini was watching their exchange with a curious gaze. Harry deliberately made eye contact with him, and a strange expression passed Zabini's face. It wasn't hostile, as Harry had expected it to be. He'd never had much interaction with the Slytherin. He'd known Zabini was part Veela for some time. Everyone did. But he'd usually just dismissed him as another of Malfoy's cronies.

At the end of the lesson, Zabini cornered Harry.

"What?" Harry asked, remaining aloof. Even so, the other boy's dark eyes enchanted him, and he realized Zabini was using his Veela powers.

"Stop that." Said Harry, looking away.

To his surprise, Zabini gave him a smile. "Sorry," He said smoothly, "Bad habit." He coughed, "I… heard what happened at Christmas."

Harry scowled. "What do you mean?"  
"At the Weasley's house? I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. "Maybe you should tell Ron that. Unless you're confessing."

"No," Zabini said slowly, "Not confessing. Besides, I would talk to Weasley but we're all well aware of how free he can be with his fists."

Harry couldn't argue with that logic, Ron had been known to go for punches before his wand, but he wasn't about to agree with Zabini.

"Was that all?"

Zabini glanced over his shoulder. Pansy Parkinson was waiting for him, tapping her foot irritably.

"No…" Said Zabini. He lowered his voice, "Look, the inspectors won't find anything at Malfoy Manor."

Now Harry was even more confused. "Inspectors?"

Zabini laughed. "You have to know. Your lot sent inspectors to Malfoy Manor today. I heard from my mother. I just wanted to tell you, they won't find anything there."

Harry blinked at him. "I already knew they wouldn't. I warned them." He narrowed his eyes, "Look, are you trying to _help _me? What is this?"

Zabini shook his head. He gave a long exhale.

"Potter, we've never been friends. I'm not under any illusions about that, but… we're not all the same, alright? I don't want to see anyone get hurt. I shouldn't even be talking to you…"

"Then don't." Harry said sharply. "I'll be late for my next class."

He left Zabini in the corridor, his head spinning, the exchange leaving him dumbfounded. Either this was an elaborate and messy ploy by the Slytherins to disarm him or Zabini had been sincere, and he had no idea which scenario was more disturbing.

As fate would have it, Harry received an owl from Remus that very same night.

_Harry,_

_Following the Azkaban breakout, we sent a team to search Malfoy Manor and confiscate any incriminating items. The house was almost empty, I'm afraid. I have no doubt Draco's family are hiding something, but whether the boy himself is a Death Eater is unclear. I wouldn't bank on it if I were you, Harry, but stay alert. An attack on Hogwarts is imminent. _

_All the best,_

_Remus_

_P.S Tonk is getting better. Healers say her memory might be fully restored. _

So, Zabini had known about the inspection before Harry did. He hadn't been lying. Even so, it didn't mean anything. Harry had _known _the Malfoy's would have hidden any incriminating evidence a long time ago.

He told Ron and Hermione about Zabini's odd words to him as they poured over Remus' letter by the fire in the Common Room.

"He's trying to get in your head." Said Ron, "He's lying. Of course he wants to see people get hurt. His mum is a known criminal."

Hermione. "Don't demonize her, Ron. She was promiscuous, that's all."

Ron snorted. "If that's what you want to call it."

Hermione pursed her lips in a very McGonagall-like fashion.

"So?" Said Harry, "Zabini is a liar?"

Hermione hummed. "I'm not so sure… did he seem guilty?"

"He seemed unsure… about something." Harry told them.

Ginny wandered over, yawning. "What's this about Zabini?"

"He talked to Harry today." Said Hermione.

Harry nodded, "He said something about… them not all being the same or something. I dunno. It was weird."

Ginny went red. "Oh." She said softly.

"What?" Asked Hermione.

Ginny sat on the floor by Harry's armchair, absently plaiting her hair. "Well, I spoke to him…"

"What?!" Ron blurted so loud he attracted attention from the other side of the common room, "You spoke to that toad? What did he say to you?"

"Bloody hell, calm down." Ginny scolded, going even redder as half of Gryffindor house tuned into their conversation. "It wasn't much. I heard him and Malfoy muttering in the library so I told them to shut up, then after Malfoy left he asked me if I wanted help studying. He was being a smarmy git so I told him to shove it, and then we just sort of started talking. Not about anything deep. I was mostly telling him how despicable him and his lot were, to be honest."

Harry snorted. "I imagine that went down well."

Ginny shrugged. "I dunno, actually. I thought I got through to him. I saw him at Slughorn's party and he actually apologized."

Hermione frowned. "For what?"

"Everything, I think."

"That doesn't make any sense." Ron muttered.

Ginny shrugged again, averting her eyes to the fire. "I don't know. He didn't seem all that bad after a bit. Don't get me wrong, the Veela thing is still really annoying and he needs to stop giving everyone the eye but I genuinely don't think he means any harm."

Hermione had gone into analysis mode, her eyes far away. The tip of her quill was in her mouth, and she was getting ink all over her chin.

"Hermione, you're doing it again." Ron said, rolling his eyes. He leant over and thumbed some of the ink off her face, only smudging it more.

"Good thing Lavender is in the library." Ginny breathed so only Harry could hear.

"Okay, but don't you think it's strange?" Harry said, not wanting the conversation to stop here. Not when they were onto something. "I mean, Malfoy hasn't been sitting with them for months, there's a mass breakout at Azkaban, and suddenly Blaise Zabini apologizes to Ginny and tries to talk to me?"

"He apologized to me before Christmas." Ginny corrected.

"Either way. It's strange, right?"  
Hermione gave a long sigh. "As much as I hate to admit it, it is. It's very strange indeed."

Draco vowed that for as long as he lived, he would never look at another Vanishing Cabinet again once this was over. If he failed, he wouldn't be living for very long so perhaps the vow was redundant in this case.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

Draco had been debating doing what he was about to do for months, ever since he'd got his hands on the broken Cabinet, in fact. It was risky, but he had no choice. His diagnostic spells simply weren't enough.

Draco took a few steps back from the Cabinet and waited before pulling out his wand, as if it might suddenly decide to tell him what was wrong with it. When it didn't, he swished his wand in the shape of a vertical cross, just as he'd seen illustrated in his book from their private library, and said,

"_Separatrum Centrum!" _

Amazingly, it worked. Draco had had no practice with this particular spell, but the Cabinet began to disassemble itself - first its door unhinging and floating in the air, then its walls and floor and every screw and bolt and hinge that held it together. All these pieces drifted out from its centre, revealing its magical core.

Every magical object had a core. Like a person, it was where all its energy was kept and stored, and if there was something wrong with the core (as Draco suspected there was) then there was something wrong with the object.

The Vanishing Cabinet's core was light green in colour, far too light than what it should have been. It shimmered in irregular bursts of light, stuttering between pale green and occasional flashes of dark. Draco stepped towards it tentatively. It was crucial he didn't touch it. If the magical core of the object tangled with his own there could be detrimental consequences. He carefully wrapped the core in a shield charm, isolating it from the other pieces of the Cabinet which swirled around his head in perfect formation.

Now came the difficult part. It would drain a lot of his magical energy to probe the core and discover what was wrong. It required a firm grasp on his own magical core to do so, and he'd never had to do anything like it before. He'd read about it plenty of times, but there was a huge difference in reading something and understanding it and actually _doing _it.

Draco set aside his anxiety and concentrated on getting the diagnostic spells ready in his head.

He cast the first, his wand pointed shakily at the core. There was an instant repel, so he pushed harder, gritting his teeth against the resistance on his wand arm. The physical push of it was astounding, and he could see now why this was considered such advanced magic. They didn't even teach this at NEWT level. Draco had studied independently for months for this, and it was proving extremely difficult.

Every diagnostic charm Draco used against the core, it repelled. Even the strongest ones. After half an hour of trying the same thing over and over again, he withdrew, utterly spent. His own core simply wasn't strong enough at the moment. He'd spent so much of his energy on repressing the Curse that he was finding it very difficult to draw on the well of power underneath it all.

Draco had gone back to the Forbidden Forest once since his return after the holidays, and it had been much needed. But it still wasn't enough. The Curse grew stronger and stronger every day, pushing and scraping at his core with increasing enthusiasm to get out.

Draco went back to consulting the book, unwinding the separation charm and allowing the Cabinet's pieces to float carefully back into place. He checked it once for any misplaced parts, but found the charm had done its job perfectly. Good. Hopefully next time would be easier.

Draco found, in fact, that the next time was not easier. Nor the next, or the next. For a week onwards he continued to push at the Cabinet's cracked core, and for a week it resisted him. It felt like the harder he tried, the harder it repelled. He was doing the spells correctly. He checked. And Britain's wisest Transfiguration teacher of all time on the subject surely had to have been right (but he had been a Ravenclaw, and Draco knew how reluctant Racenclaws could be to admit they were ever wrong). Even so, he tried and tried and simply could not get the Vanishing Cabinet's core to cooperate with him.

On the seventh night, he fell asleep in the Room of Requirement, awakening the next morning with his face scrunched into the pages.

He was a mess. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late for breakfast, and all the draining on his magical core the night before had made him ravenous.

Draco marched down to the hall, aware of how much of a mess he looked. His robes were crumpled and his hair was unkempt, but he really couldn't find it in himself to care. He hadn't done much of that since returning. He had no one to impress now except the Dark Lord and judging by the Dark Lord's appearance he certainly had no right to judge Draco for his.

The Great Hall was busy as ever. Once glance at the Slytherin table and Draco noticed his 'friends' bunched around together laughing. So they weren't missing him. Good to know. He ignored it, and carried on walking, stopping when he saw who Potter was talking to.

Katie Bell was back, and she was staring at him over Potter's shoulder, her eyes wide with recognition. Any second now and -

Potter turned, his expression hardening as he saw Draco halted in between the tables. He debated carrying on and pretending he hadn't seen anything at all, surely that would be the least suspicious, but he'd been stood still for too long. He was past that point. Heart thudding madly, Draco turned on his heel and strode out of the Great Hall, praying Potter wouldn't follow him. He didn't bother to check behind him as he legged it up the stairs, missing two at a time, and made it to the second floor where he turned a now-familiar corner and ran until his shoes splashed and the floor became slippery. The girl's bathroom was deserted as usual. He yanked his robes off over his head and discarded them on the wet floor, burning up as the Curse asserted itself inside him. There wasn't even a sign of Moaning Myrtle as he ran to the sink, turning on the tap and splashing cold water over his face.

It didn't work. Draco cried anyway, every inch of him overheating. Katie Bell _recognized _him. He'd seen it on her face. Fuck it. He'd have to kill Dumbledore tonight. Fuck the plan. If Dumbledore was dead, maybe the wards would die with him and the Death Eaters could just flood the place, maybe -

"Malfoy."

Draco spun around, clutching the sink for dear life. Potter stood there, panting (he'd actually _run after him_?) wand out and ready. He didn't waste any time, did he?

Draco wiped his nose with a sniff, hoping the water from the sink disguised the tears he'd just been shedding very loudly.

Potter's expression did not suggest room for a diplomatic agreement. There would be no teasing. No hiding under the cloak. No dress robes to make Potter look like a different person and allow Draco to pretend he wasn't betraying his own family by not disarming him on the spot. No. None of that today.

Draco had all but admitted to handing Katie Bell the cursed necklace by running away. Why did he always _do _that? Even as he'd promised his mother he wouldn't, he still…

It was just Potter! When he looked at him like he was looking at him now; it filled Draco with the inscrutable notion that Potter knew _exactly _what he was thinking.

Even though he didn't. He couldn't possibly.

Neither of them needed to say it.

Before Potter could say anything else, Draco whipped out his wand and yelled,

"_Stupefy!" _

Right as Potter shouted,

"_Expelliarmus!" _

The two spells ricocheted around the room, missing their targets and shattering sinks and cubicle doors as the two of them launched themselves out of the way. Draco hid behind Myrtle's cubicle. Potter scuttled around another corner. At the first sign of movement, Draco threw another spell behind him. Potter's followed, narrowly missing his ear. With a harsh grunt, tears still stinging his eyes, he started forward and opened his mouth to cast a _Protego _just as Potter emerged from a cubicle and cried,

"_Sectumsempra!" _

Draco hardly had time to register the fact that Potter had just uttered a spell he'd never heard before when it hit him squarely in the chest.

The pain didn't hit him straight away. No, his body was still in shock. Instead, he witnessed the first stripe of blood blossom across his clean white shirt. Then another slash appeared and another and another and Draco didn't feel himself fall backwards. He saw the ceiling wave above him in a blur and heard Potter's panting and scrambling as he said Draco's name over and over, but none of it made sense. His whole body screamed with agony and the water around him had turned red… was that _his_ blood?

The Curse grew stronger and larger. It wanted to protect him. It wanted to reveal itself and cover his body with the impenetrable armour only his other form could provide. Even now, inches away from death, Draco forced it back down. Unconsciousness blurred his vision, the darkness threatening to wash over him completely, but Draco reached deep down into his magical core and drew from it. A last resort. The act itself was desperate, and he felt everything from him drain slowly as he struggled to stay alive.

"Draco…" Harry was saying, his bright green eyes wide and fearful above Draco, "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Was Potter _crying_? Draco would have laughed if he could've. Instead, the Curse reached out a last time, and he could feel the first effects of it bubbling on his skin.

"No…" He heard himself say, his voice oh so weak, "Don't turn."

The Curse obliged, but not before leaving with a steady low growl in his chest. The last thing Draco saw before what he guessed was probably his death, was Harry Potter's startling eyes gazing, anguished, into his own.

There were worse ways to die.

When Draco awoke, it was night and the hospital wing was empty. Even Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. Draco's chest felt tight. It was bound by a layer of thick white bandages, but there was no pain. Slowly, memories of what had transpired between he and Potter unfolded in his memory, and as they did, the Curse rose to protect him. It was insistent and unyielding. This, Draco realized, had been the last straw for the Curse. It would not allow him to escape, and it pushed past his weakened boundaries with ease.

"Please…" Draco rasped, hauling himself out of bed, "Not here… take me somewhere else…"

The Curse had already begun transforming Draco before he'd reached the doors. In his delirious state, he thought he passed one of the ghosts on the way out, but he couldn't be sure. His exposed skin shone in the moonlight as it broke apart into scales. His back arched with the weight of the wings bursting from his shoulders and breaking through the hospital shirt. He stumbled down the front lane of the castle in full view of anyone who might be walking past, but he could not see. His sight was changing, even as he staggered blindly on. He barely made it to the forest in time before fully transforming, the cracking of his bones and stretch of his skin growing and unfolding loud in the emptiness. He was not at full size. Not yet. His Dragon form now was hardly bigger than his human form, his wings accounting for most of his mass. Immediately he felt a thousand times stronger, the bandages lying in rags by his claws. They were covered in blood, but this body would not scar. It would protect him against most spells, and it assured him with its strength as he spread his wings and took flight high above the trees, his mind too spent to question what his body wanted. And it was now, as he flew with complete liberation, that Draco understood what Nagini had meant.

He had been consumed by the Curse. It would not allow him to change back, even if he tried.

And as the Forest became a patch of dark green beneath him, the mountains rolling into view over the cobalt horizon peppered with bright stars and a beckoning moon, Draco found he hardly cared. He was free.

_*__**A/N: **__Okay... everything starts to snowball from here, I promise! I realize we are almost 30k words in and we've hardly got to the contents of the summary yet, but it all goes off in the next chapter, trust me. :P IM STILL LOOKING FOR BETA READERS! I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU BETA FOR ME! NO I DONT CARE IF I SOUND DESPERATE. these are trying times. a guy's gotta do all he can. Please please leave a review. If you write, you know how hard it is to keep going without positive feedback. I'm mostly writing this fic for pure self indulgence and years of pent up ideas that needed to come out (Like Draco's curse...) but reviews mean the absolute world. Even if it's just one word. Thank you so much for reading this far! I always check on stats and its so nice to see visitors. Thank you! x_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_A Trojan Horse_

There was blood on his hands. Blood on his clothes. It contaminated him. Sank into his pores and obscured his vision. Draco Malfoy's blood was everywhere. Even the next morning, when Harry awoke covered in a cold sweat, he could feel Malfoy's blood crawling all over his skin.  
And it was his fault.

Ginny had helped Harry hide the Half-Blood Prince's Potions book, holding Harry's hand as he shook with the aftereffects of what had happened. He hadn't been sad to let it go. The spell was evil. Pure evil. And nothing could ever erase the fact that Harry had used it with the intent to harm.

He'd felt the effects of Malfoy's weak shield charm and ripped right through it. No hesitation. If this is what it meant to be the Chosen One, Harry didn't want it.

He didn't bother with breakfast. He had to do something first. Something Hermione and Ron and anyone else with half a brain cell would completely disapprove of. But he had to. The guilt would eat him alive if he didn't.

Harry prepared himself for the hatred in Malfoy's eyes, for the insults and taunts and whatever else might come his way. Deep down, he hoped for it. Because if Malfoy didn't shout at him for what he'd done he had no idea _what _he would do. Harry needed the anger. He needed it so he could apologize. But as he reached the entrance to the hospital wing, he was met with a flurry of teachers. Snape was among them, and he gave Harry a long, cold glare on his arrival.

Harry had the decency to look away. He was about to sneak past them and enter the hospital wing, when -

"Harry, is that you?"

Harry looked at the cluster of teachers again and blinked, spotting a tall redheaded man with a kind face and burn-scarred hands among them.

"Charlie!" Harry exclaimed, taking the young-man's hand and shaking it. "What are you doing here?"

Charlie exchanged an apprehensive look with McGonagall who gave him a tight-lipped shake of her head.

His expression darkened. "Oh, err - just - business, really. Haven't injured yourself again, have you?"

Harry rather wished he had. "No. I'm here to see someone." He said.

"Mr. Malfoy has gone home." Said Snape sharply from behind Harry. "I assume it is he you wished to see?"

Harry pulled himself to full height in the shadow of Snape's loom.

"I wanted to apologize." He replied icily.

Snape's lip curled. "How… _gallant_. Though I'm afraid his injuries were so great that he has been recommended complete bed rest. Without disruption."

McGonagall stepped forward, "Severus"- she began with a whisper.

"I am afraid you will have to write your well wishings to Mr. Malfoy." He sneered at Harry's dumbfounded silence, ignoring the Gryffindor head of house. "Or perhaps not."

Harry stared. He couldn't believe this. He'd spent the whole morning preparing himself, too nervous to even eat, and Malfoy wasn't here? Because of _him_? He swallowed tightly, trying not to allow his thoughts to show.

"Right." He said. "I'll just err… go."

Minerva stepped in front of Harry, flustered.

"Mr. Potter. I urge you not to stress. Please focus on your studies and put all concerns for Mr. Malfoy and yesterday's unfortunate, uh, incident out of your mind. Can you do that?"

_No_, Harry thought. He'd think about this until the day he saw the Slytherin's arrogant blond head reappear in class.

He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Professor. See you later, Charlie."

"Later, Harry." Charlie replied with a sympathetic wave.

None of it made any sense. First of all, Harry had only been issued a detention the day before. He thought his actions against Malfoy warranted an immediate expulsion, if not a hearing on account of grievous bodily harm. But - he figured - Dumbledore needed him. This wouldn't be the first time Dumbledore had evaded the law on account of Harry. Then there was the issue of why Malfoy had been sent home. Harry had seen Snape healing his wounds, however briefly. Had the cuts gone deeper? Were they enchanted to keep cutting? If not, surely Madam Pomfrey could have healed him up no problem. Harry had seen far worse stitched back up by the talented Healer. And if they were, then Malfoy should have been sent to St. Mungos, not at home in bed.

Not a single part of this fit together. The puzzle wasn't only incomplete, it had been jumbled up being recognition, and now other teachers were in on it too. And… Charlie Weasley.

"_Smith saw a Dragon." _

Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor on his way to the Great Hall. Charlie Weasley was a Dragonkeeper. And he was visiting Hogwarts. It could be a coincidence, of course, but when did these things ever happen by chance?

He had to make sure.

Hermione stopped Harry in the entrance of the Great Hall, her expression stern, a mountain of books piled impossibly in the crook of her arm.

"You didn't go to see Malfoy, did you?" She started, hand on Harry's shoulder to stop him from running away.

"He wasn't there. He's gone home. At least, that's what Snape said."

She drew in a deep breath. "Leave him alone, Harry. Please. This will only get messier. I don't think he'd appreciate it if you"-

-"Thanks, but where's Ron?"

Hermione blinked. "Oh… he's still eating." She rolled her eyes. "You might have some competition for his attention though."

"Lavender?"

"What do you think?"

Hermione brushed past him, huffing. Ron and Lavender's breakfast time canoodling had clearly put her in a very sour mood. Not that Harry could blame her. When he reached the table, Ron almost had to pry Lavender off him like a limpet.

"Just a minute, Lav," He told her with just enough irritation in his tone that only Harry could pick up on it. He stifled a laugh as Ron straightened himself, earning him a firm kick under the table.

"You didn't tell me Charlie was visiting." Said Harry, piling bacon onto his plate with no intention of eating it. It would disappear once he left anyway.

Ron began packing his books into his back. He was doing last minute Potions homework. No wonder he'd hidden it from Hermione under the guise of food. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Charlie? What?" He had Ron's full attention now. Lavender hooked her arm into this with coos of "_Won, Won!" _

"I saw him by the Hospital Wing." Said Harry, heart thudding as he realized his suspicions were being confirmed.

"Are you sure, Harry? He was in Romania last I heard. He didn't say he was coming."

Harry shrugged. "Said it was about business."

"A _minute_, Lavender! Blimey… that's weird. I'll owl mum tonight, see if she's heard from him. Is he still there? Last time he brought Percy back a Dragonhide briefcase. Said it would be my turn next." Ron grinned. "Hopefully it's something cooler though… like boots…"

Harry clapped his best friend on the shoulder as he stood to leave. "Thanks, Ron! Bye, Lavender!"

He doubted she heard him as he sprinted out of the Great Hall. The fact that Ron didn't even know his brother was here meant something had happened. Something urgent. And it had to do with that Dragon and Draco Malfoy.

Harry hadn't checked the map in over 24 hours. He hadn't had the time nor the chance. Yesterday's events had been… distracting. The map was locked in Harry's bedside drawer, and he had barely five minutes to get it before Potions began.

"Come on, come on, come on…" He muttered to himself as he pressed against the tides of students herding the corridors. He was sweating when he finally made it up to Gryffindor tower. His hands were shaking as he unlocked his drawer and pulled the map free, his eyes frantically scanning its pages until every name blurred and warped. No, Draco Malfoy was not in the castle. He flipped over to the forest. Firenze was there, alone. His name had appeared the minute he'd been appointed as Divination Professor last year. But he was the only one. Harry exhaled, all the excitement of the past ten minutes draining. Maybe Snape hadn't been lying. Maybe Malfoy had been sent home and Charlie really was just on some official business. Maybe Harry wanted so desperately to distract himself from what he'd done that he'd resorted to fantasizing about Dragons and conspiracies. He dropped the map, sitting heavily on his bed. He was worse than Zacharias Smith.

Harry didn't go to Potions. He didn't go to Transfiguration, either. Or Defence Against the Dark Arts. Instead, he sat in his room all morning and afternoon, his chest hollowed out with guilt and shame the more he convinced himself he was wrong.

Ron and Hermione were right. He was losing himself in nonsense to avoid the real shit in his life. No, the conversation between Malfoy and Snape still made no sense. But it could have meant anything.

That was how Ron found him, lying back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, dead-eyed.

"Err…" Said Ron, hovering over him. "You okay, mate?"

Harry nodded with the barest lift of his chin. Ron grimaced and threw his bag onto his own bed.

"Did I miss much?" Harry asked distantly.

Ron gave a snort. "Nah. Nothing you can't catch up on. But Snape had a riot going on about the 'facade of Gryffindor Pride' and how 'The Chosen One doesn't get to choose his timetable.' So, you know, ten points gone."

Harry sighed. "Right."

"But don't stress over it, Harry. You've had a lot going on."

"You mean when I nearly killed Malfoy?"

Silence.

"Harry. You didn't."

Harry sat up quickly, skewing his glasses. "I did, Ron! Did you know he's been sent home because of me?"

Ron stared at him, bewildered. Harry noticed he had half a scone in his hand.

"Isn't that… good though?" Said Ron hesitantly. "I mean, you were so worried he was up to something. He can't exactly cause trouble now, can he? Probably did us all a favour if you were right."

"But I wasn't!" Harry yelled, springing off the bed with more energy than he'd had all day. "I was wrong, wasn't I? You were right! You and Hermione were fucking right, I was just - I was trying to shift everything onto him! It was easier!"

Ron took two steps back, holding up a hand as though Harry was a wild animal that had escaped from its cage.

"Listen, Harry. You can't blame yourself. He's always been a dodgy bloke, and it's not your fault"-

-"He was crying." Said Harry, his eyes finding the floor. "He was crying when I finally caught up with him… I didn't even ask, or try I just… attacked."

Harry was _not _going to cry. He was determined on that. But the guilt consuming him from the inside made him want to scream out. He fisted his hands in his sheets as he crawled back onto his bed, feeling Ron watching him the whole time, and slammed his face into the pillow.

After a few seconds, Ron came over and patted him lightly on the back.

"Wanna go down early for dinner?" Came the tentative request.

"Yeah." Harry gave a muffled reply. Eating was the last thing he wanted to do, but there was nothing else for it. He couldn't hide up here forever.

Harry decided over the next week that January was his least favourite month of all. The days passed unbearably slowly and the snow soon turned to sludge. Supposedly, a fresh batch was supposed to fall in February, but all they got in the first week of the new month was sleet and cold wind. He took his notes languidly, finding it almost impossible to keep focus when the shame of what he'd done ebbed at the knot in his chest. Every day Harry looked out for a flash of the blond head he'd grown so used to scowling at in lessons, and every day he was painfully reminded of why his so-called nemesis wasn't there in the first place. Hermione seemed to be relieved at first; after all, Harry had stopped checking the map. He hadn't taken it from his bedside drawer for almost two weeks now. But day by day he noticed a different kind of concern overlapping her relief. Harry knew he wasn't himself. He caught himself sighing and staring off into the distance far too often than he'd have liked, and the looks Hermione and Ron were exchanging with each other became increasingly knowing. It was starting to irritate Harry. But he didn't have the strength to call them out on it. He didn't have the strength to do much at all, and Ginny had reprimanded him more than once for his lack of focus in Quidditch. He couldn't even bring himself to feel guilty about it. He'd used up all of his guilt on Draco Malfoy.

They were in Transfiguration when it happened. Harry, as usual, had long since tuned out to what McGonagall had been saying and was staring out of the window. If it hadn't been for the gasp beside him, he would have thought he was seeing things. A streak of white dashed across the horizon so quickly that he might have blinked and hallucinated, but another student's exclaim a moment later confirmed that Harry had indeed just seen something fly across the sky. Something massive and white and quick.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat at the interruption. "Settle down, now"-

"Professor!" Said Eloise Midgen, "There's a… a bird?"

"It wasn't a bird." Said someone else. Harry realized he hadn't been the only one daydreaming out of the window. "It was too big to be a bird."

The class scrambled to the window much to McGonagall's dismay, but when she saw what everyone else did she immediately fell silent.

A Dragon was flying over Hogwarts. In looping dives and swirls, it flew low over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, ducking in and out of the canopy, its long silver tail swishing the branches and scaring birds into flight. They watched its movements, transfixed and terrified, as it began a path towards the castle, weaving around towers and almost brushing the greenhouses.

Uproar broke out among the students. Harry caught Hermione's panicked eyes and knew they were both thinking the same thing: _A Death Eater attack? _

But why send a Dragon? And how did it get passed the wards?

"EVERYONE QUIET!" McGonagall yelled, casting a _Sonorus _on her voice to cut through the din.

Everyone fell silent, momentarily looking her way. McGonagall's sharp eyes were a storm.

"You will all calmly make your way to your dormitories. Do not break ranks. Do not leave the castle. Do you understand?"

Murmurs of "Yes, Professor" followed her command. She directed her steely gaze at Harry, a silent warning. _Don't try anything, Potter. _

He wasn't sure he could keep such a promise. But as he left the classroom amidst the push of excited and scared students, McGonagall pulled him aside. Hermione stayed with him.

"Go to your common room, Miss Granger." Said McGonagall.

Hermione's lips hardened into a line. "But, Professor"-

-"It's okay, Hermione." Said Harry, "I'll catch you in a minute."

Hermione left reluctantly.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall lowered her voice, "You are to go to straight to the headmaster's office."

Harry's pulse quickened. "Am I in trouble?"  
"No, but he wished for your presence should a situation like this arise."

Confused, Harry did as he was bidden, taking the stairs two at a time to get to Dumbledore's office. So, what? After his success in the Triwizard tournament they wanted him to defeat another Dragon? It didn't seem likely, but it was the only conclusion Harry could come to as he ascended the lift. The doors parted into Dumbledore's crowded office. Flitwick, Slughorn and Dumbledore gathered around his desk in deep and urgent conversation.

"...have sent Charlie Weasley to investigate but he requires more information"-

Dumbledore cut off at Harry's entrance. The other professor's looked at him. He gulped.

"Hullo, professor." Said Harry feeling scrutinized.

Slughorn glanced from Harry to his employer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He had been nothing _but _suspicious of Harry ever since he'd stupidly brought up Tom Riddle's schoolboy days. Even the Christmas holidays hadn't chipped his cold treatment toward Harry.

He breezed past Harry without a word and Flitwick followed apologetically in his wake. Once the doors had shut, Harry burst out -

"Professor, there's a Dragon on the grounds."

Dumbledore did not react to this news. Harry didn't think he would. The old wizard appeared to know everything that would happen moments before it did.

"I know, Harry." He said softly, "And I must ask you to do something for me."

Harry nodded vigorously, his heart punching holes in his chest.

Dumbledore moved behind his desk, opening a drawer and withdrawing a straight dark-handled wand. Harry blinked, the tug in his abdomen assuring him he knew whose wand it was before Dumbledore uttered a word.

"Ten inches, Hawthorn, reasonably springy with a unicorn hair core. This wand was discovered in the Forbidden Forest a week ago and it belongs to"-

-"Malfoy." Harry finished in a breath.

Dumbledore raised a brow. "Yes. Harry, do you know where he is?"

"Sna - _Professor _Snape said he'd been sent home… because of me."

Dumbledore's expression darkened. "I see." He sat down heavily in his chair, his blackened hand gripping the desk. "Mr Malfoy went missing the night of your duel. He was not seen leaving the hospital wing. I suspect you found no trace of him on your map, either, did you Harry?"

There was no point lying about the map. "No, sir."

Dumbledore nodded with a sigh. "Then it is I suspected." He replaced the wand in the drawer. Harry wished he'd got the chance to hold it. He dismissed the odd thought.

"And what did you suspect, sir?"

"That there is more to Draco's position than I originally thought."

"P-position?"

"Yes." Dumbledore met Harry's eye. "He is almost certainly a Death Eater."

Harry caught his breath, blood turning to ice. He swayed manically between relief - the relief that he hadn't been crazy after all - and despair, because what had Malfoy been doing in the Forest the night he'd helped him? Was it all in preparation for his escape, if that's what this was? Had _he _sent the Dragon to Hogwarts?

"Then the Dragon, sir, you think he has something to do with it?"

Dumbledore contemplated this, and as he did, Forks swooped down to sit on his master's shoulder. It was a marvellous sight, Harry thought. But he also couldn't shake the unnerving thought that Dumbledore looked so old. So worn. It was haunting.

"That is what I wish for you to find out. We have been aware of the Dragon's presence for some time now, Harry, but it did not encroach on the castle boundaries until today. I wish to know how it got past our wards. I charmed each and every student, staff member and governor myself to ensure they were granted passage through the wards and _nothing _else should be able to penetrate it. Not even an extremely advanced concealment charm could hide an intruder, let alone a Dragon. Harry, perhaps this is asking too much, but I would like for you to enter the Forest under your invisibility cloak and get a closer look at this creature, whatever it may be."  
"You think it might… _not _be a Dragon, sir?" Asked Harry.

"Charlie Weasley did not recognize its type. Even his international colleagues could not identify it. Perhaps it is a new kind, or perhaps it is something else entirely. It is urgent we discover the truth, Harry. Lord Voldemort will use any means necessary to gain access to Hogwarts, and if this Dragon - if that's what it is - has found a way inside, he may be able to as well."

Harry nodded fervently. "I'll go, sir. And I'll be careful."

Dumbledore's expression became sombre. "I'm sorry to use you like this, Harry. But I trust you. And I trust the cloak. It served your father very well after all."

Harry gave a half-smile. "Yes, well… maybe I'll be able to put it to better use than my father, sir."

Dumbledore's mystical blue eyes twinkled and he set aside a smile for Forks who perched in regal form beside his master.

"That's what I like to hear."

Rather than gunning straight for the invisibility cloak, Harry's first instinct was to check the map. He almost felt like he was regressing the moment he unfolded the crinkled parchment and scanned for the familiar name. His heart jolted when he spotted it in the Forbidden Forest. '_Draco Malfoy_.' It was still. Unmoving. _Waiting_, Harry's mind provided. His mouth went dry as he quietly gathered his things so as not to disturb Seamus who was sleeping, and Dean who was doing homework at his desk. He tried to be discreet as he slipped down the staircase to the packed common room where talkings of the Dragon were in full swing. Hermione, Ron and Lavender were in their usual chairs near the fireplace, and Hermione spotted Harry right away.

"Where were you?" She asked him as he made for the portrait.

He swallowed. "Dumbledore's office. I need to go back, actually."

She frowned, but she didn't stop him. "Is everything alright? What's going on?"

Usually, Harry would have confided in his best friends right away. He would have taken them with him. But he had no idea what he was dealing with, and Dumbledore had tasked this to _him_. If he took Ron and Hermione things could get complicated. There was no way they'd fit under the cloak for starters. They might get hurt. And he might lose Dumbledore's trust. So he lied.

"It's about Slughorn. Dumbledore thinks this might be the perfect opportunity to get the memory, what with everyone distracted and all."

She relaxed her shoulders. "I see… are you sure _now _is the best time? We might be under attack."

Harry shrugged, feeling each second tick by. "Dumbledore doesn't seem to think so. See you!" He didn't wait for Hermione to stop him. He pushed through the rest of his fellow Gryffindors and out of the common room, heading straight for the secret exit behind Gregory the Smarmy on the fifth floor.

The wind in the forbidden tunnel seemed to breathe with him, great drafts edging him on like a pair of lungs.

When Harry emerged into the forest, it could have been night. The trees concealed most of the dying sunlight, and the chilly February air gathered in swathes of fog at his feet. He withdrew the cloak from his bag, throwing it over himself and trying not to let his footfalls crunch too loudly as he slowly made his way in deeper.

He was almost too tall for the cloak now, but thankfully the mist concealed his feet. Fumbling from beneath it, he retrieved the map and searched again for Malfoy's name in the dark. It was still there. And it was close. Sitting, as if lying in wait for Harry to find him. He could do nothing but wonder if he was walking straight into a trap, yet still he walked. He was under the invisibility cloak. It was fine.

That's what he kept telling himself as he crept through the forest, closer and closer to Malfoy's nametag on the map. He kept his eyes on the parchment rather than ahead of him, which turned out to be a grave mistake.

Harry stopped dead at the sound of something… _tearing_. His insides went cold as he became aware of the massive presence dead ahead of him. Hardly daring to look up, he didn't risk folding the map away for fear of making a sound and alerting… the Dragon. Even the forest gloom could not disguise the glare of its silver scales and the scale of its boat-sized wings, folded neatly behind its back as it hunched over something - an animal. Dead. Ripped open.

_The Dragon was feasting. _

Harry realized he'd wandered directly into the clearing, in full view of the Dragon should it turn around. Its back was turned to him as it tore into the poor dead deer at the foot of its long, deadly claws. Its tail swished dangerously close - long and shimmering and tipped with an arrow-shaped barb. Hands shaking, Harry glanced down at the map, refocusing. Malfoy was here. _Right _here! Somewhere… right in front of him… but he was nowhere in sight.

He looked at the map.

Then back at the Dragon.

Then at the map.

Then at the dead creature being snacked on like a Sunday lunch.

"Fuckinghell." Harry said aloud, "It's eaten Draco Malfoy."

The Dragon paused, its head snapping sharply to the side in Harry's direction. Harry froze, the Dragon's crystal clear grey eyes staring right through him. Bloody hell. It was _enormous_. In the sky, the Dragon had looked elegant with its tumbling dips and loops but here, up close… it was fucking terrifying.

Harry's pulse thundered in his ears and he cursed himself for speaking out loud. But it was true. When the Dragon moved, so did Malfoy's name tag. Which also meant - dread curled cold fingers around Harry's heart - _he was still alive in there. _The Dragon had swallowed him whole.

Trembling, Harry quietly withdrew his wand from his back pocket. At the same time, the Dragon's glacial eyes narrowed and it spun its body round to face Harry, crouched low along the ground.

What spell could take out a Dragon? Better yet, what spell could split open its belly to free the prisoner inside?

"_S-Sectum"- _Harry couldn't say it. Not again. The spell's cruel madness bubbled at his lips, flickering sparks at the tip of his wand, but even now - even when he knew it _might _help - he couldn't do it.

"_Stupefy!" _He whispered as loudly as he dared.

The jet of red light shot out from beneath the cloak and hit the Dragon square in its long, flexing neck. It bounced right off. Not a shimmering scale was harmed.

And Harry had just given away his position.

The Dragon revealed its fangs and snarled in a rumbling growl that made the ground shake beneath Harry's feet.

He stumbled backwards, preparing to run, but the cloak was tangling around his knees.

"Sod it." He said, throwing it off. It wouldn't help him now.

He pivoted sharply on his heel - too sharply - and began running. He tripped a second later. Not on a root, but on the Dragon's own tail, which swung up and lashed out, its barbed end whipping Harry directly on the back of his head.

There was blinding pain - the hot sensation of blood trickling into his hair - and then the world went black.

If Harry dreamt at all in his unconsciousness, it was that he was weightless. Floating above the clouds in a state between pure bliss and pure terror. And then, he began to awaken. The first thing he heard was dripping. A wet, musty smell invaded his nostrils, dragging him into wakefulness and making him horribly aware of his soggy clothes and the jagged surface he was lying on. It wasn't difficult for his eyes to adjust to the light, because there wasn't much of it. At first he thought he was looking at stars. The little blue points of light above him glistened, but then he realized it was a ceiling. And the glowing stuff he was looking at was Candentis Moss. Dredges of Potions notes blurred in his vision… _Candentis Moss is rare and regional to the caves of Scotland, namely the caves near Hogwarts where its growth was encouraged for academic purposes… _

He was in the caves.

The very same caves Buckbeak and Sirius had hidden away in. A pang of loss momentarily distracted Harry from his predicament until he became horribly aware that he wasn't alone.

The cave entrance was blocked by the same extraordinary creature that had apparently put him here. The bioluminescence of the moss did nothing to lessen the Dragon's threatening mass. Briefly, Harry wondered how it had gotten inside the cave. It was far bigger than its entrances would allow. Perhaps there was another way in. Perhaps there were tunnels large enough to accommodate a Dragon. Perhaps Harry was still dreaming.

The back of his head throbbed painfully as he pushed himself into a sitting position with a grunt of discomfort. His hands scraped against the rocks and the wet and the cold chilled him to his bones.

He gave the Dragon a wary glance. It wasn't moving. Its eyes were fixed on Harry. Unyielding and bright, even in the near-darkness. The blue moss tinted the Dragon a similar colour, causing it to glow poisonously.

"Ugh…" Harry groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "This is _not _how I expected to die."

A low, short growl emitted from the cave entrance. The Dragon was snarling again.

"What?" Harry shot back in his frustration, "You're not going to kill me right away? Is that why you brought me to your nest? Playing with your food, and all that?"

To Harry's amazement, the Dragon simply huffed, turning its back on him and facing the pitch black outside.

Harry didn't know Dragons could sound haughty. Not until now. It perplexed him. The Dragon stretched its wings and flexed them, fanning a draft into the cae. Harry shivered. The sound of its claws scraping along the stone sent him backing up against the far wall. The Dragon turned its head, watching him.

"Did you bring me up here?" Aked Harry in a moment of madness. Unsurprisingly, the Dragon did not answer him. It turned back to the cave entrance, gazing into the night. Harry crept closer to where his map and cloak lay discarded and soaked. Thankfully he'd had the sense to cast an _Impervius _on the parchment, so the ink remained clear and crisp. The cloak hadn't been so lucky. To confirm what he'd seen earlier, Harry looked at the map, but Malfoy's name wasn't there. Of course it wasn't. They were outside the wards.

He sighed, flinging it down in frustration.

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, where are you?"

The Dragon startled, frightening Harry. It turned to him in a smooth spin, advancing with narrowed eyes and bared teeth.

Harry stumbled back until his shoulders touched the wall again. Godric, his head hurt.

The Dragon did not stop until its huge head was level with Harry's, almost nose (muzzle?) to nose. Its hot breath washed over him and the rumble of a slow growl could be heard brewing in its chest.

"Please." Said Harry, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don't. Eat me. I know you ate Malfoy, and I know he's still alive. Fuck. Godric. No. Oh my god."

Silence answered him. Shuddering from head to toe, Harry apprehensively opened his eyes. The Dragon wasn't growling anymore. It was staring at him. Its eyes were the sizes of serving dishes, round and clear with slit pupils. But it didn't look as… _mean _as it had a few seconds ago. Harry took that as a good sign.

"I won't hurt you." He said in a soft tone. "I-I only cast a spell before because I panicked. I'm sorry… I just want to know what you're doing here."

Harry felt like an idiot talking to a creature that couldn't understand him, but it seemed to be working. The Dragon's hand-sized nostrils flared out once more and then closed, and it lowered its eyes from Harry's. Perhaps he'd learnt a useful thing or two from Hagrid after all. Hagrid would love this.

"I'm an idiot." Said Harry earnestly, releasing a long breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "Obviously not as much of an idiot as Malfoy though."

The Dragon's eyes flicked back up to meet his, narrowed. Was there a possibility it knew what he was saying?

"He's only gone and got himself eaten." Harry muttered. "I'll bet he cast a load of spells on you. Didn't work though, did they? God, Hermione's gonna kill me… If you decide not to kill me first, obviously."

The Dragon blinked with a set of clear eyelids. Once. Twice. It backed away slowly, giving Harry space to move away from the wall. Not that he did yet. He was still too scared to make any sudden movements. For a long moment, they held eye contact. If Dragons were anything like Hippogryphs, Harry was well and truly fucked. As it was, the Dragon gave another _huff _sound and faced away from Harry, instead choosing to pace the length of the cave, its body low to the ground as it stretched its wings a little. The interior of the cave was rather large. Which was just as well, because so was the Dragon. He still couldn't see any tunnels or alternate entrances or exits though.

Harry stared at the Dragon's belly. Malfoy was in there. In total darkness. In its _stomach_. When had that happened? Surely he hadn't survived in there for two whole weeks. Or maybe he had, and he was on the brink of death. The thought disturbed Harry. As the Dragon paced, Harry made a move to follow it.

"Malfoy!" He shout-whispered.

The Dragon stopped. Fixed him with a glare.

"Oi, Malfoy! Are you in there? Just give me a sign, alright?"

The Dragon did not move.

Harry didn't either. He stared back. "I know you don't know what I'm saying, but if you could please release Malfoy from your stomach that would be great."

The Dragon stared at him for an entire second before letting out a strange rattling breath and resuming its pace around the circumference of the cave.

Okay. So that tactic was a no go. And Dragon skin was so thick and so magical that none of his spells would penetrate it either. He fingered his wand in his pocket, considering something - _anything - _that might free Malfoy from the belly of the beast when a thought struck him:

Maybe this was part of Malfoy's plan.

"Shit!" Harry exclaimed, stopping and shoving his hands in his hair as the epiphany came to him. "Oh shit, you're part of it!" He pointed at the Dragon. "And he - Malfoy is _hiding _in you! Like a Trojan Horse! To get the Death Eaters past the wards!"

The Dragon stopped to watch Harry as he began to pace in a circle.

"Oh my god, that actually makes sense. You're, like, some kind of distraction. A vessel to transport them - but why just Malfoy? Is he testing it?"

Fired with new resolve, Harry marched up to the Dragon. To his shock, it recoiled, backing away a slight step.

"You get that, Malfoy? I'm onto you! I know what you're doing… but…" Harry trailed off, realizing a major flaw in his theory. "The wards. Ah. They'd let _you _in but not the Dragon or the Death Eaters… fuck… okay, maybe not…"

Harry began to pace again, thinking hard. The Dragon watched him all the while as Harry came up with theory after theory, each one a little less plausible than the last.

"When you ate Malfoy you absorbed his - his, uhhh - his _soul essence _and _that's _how you got past the wards."

"You're a massive deformed bogart from Malfoy's bad dream and that's why his name is on the map."

"You're not actually a Dragon, you're just a transfigured seagull. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have blocked seagulls from getting into Hogwarts, they're hardly a threat… well, I suppose it depends who you ask… Aunt Petunia's biggest fear is seagulls..."

Harry gave up in the end, sliding against the back wall with an exhausted sigh.

"Final theory," He told the Dragon, defeated, "I've gone completely mad and this is a vivid hallucination that I've constructed as a coping mechanism because I can't deal with my own stupid guilt."

He sat on the wet ground with his head in his hands, resenting his pounding headache. Resenting the cold. Resenting Dumbledore for sending him on this wild goose chase. But most of all, resenting himself.

On the bright side, if he did get eaten, at least he had his wand. Then he'd be able to rescue Malfoy from _inside _the Dragon. It sounded like a great plan on paper. But would it work in practice? There was only one way to find out.

Sucking in a deep breath, Harry jumped up to face the Dragon. It hadn't moved from where it sat on its haunches opposite him, watching with curious eyes. There was something beautiful about it, Harry thought as he strode forwards, there was no denying it. Its features were perfectly balanced and its scales were dazzlingly silver with threads of hairline blue veins reflecting the Candentis Moss. It was elegant in all of its awesome, terrifying form. And Harry was about to let it eat him. He gulped, coming to a halt at its feet.

He spread his arms wide. "Go on then. Eat me up."

The Dragon was still.

"Eat me! Gobble me up! Do it!" Harry felt like an idiot. He dropped his arms in frustration.

"Come oooooooon, useless Dragon!" Harry yelled. A hiss spurned from the Dragon's mouth and it parted its jaws.

Uh oh. This was it.

It bent its neck to bring its head level with Harry's again, the slits of its eyes narrowed to vertical black lines.

Harry gripped his wand in his pocket, thinking of all the protection charms that would shield him from the Dragon's forearm-length curved fangs.

The inside of the Dragon's mouth was like a cave in itself, its purple-tinged gums packed with rows of deadly teeth in uniform formation. A glow began to shine from the back of its throat, growing brighter and brighter and then - _hot_.

Harry gasped, throwing his arms up in a useless attempt to shield himself from being inevitably roasted.  
At the last second, however, the Dragon turned its great head and shot a plume of bright orange flame out of the cave entrance and into the night with a thundering roar. For a full second, the whole space was illuminated by the incredible fire. Rock sizzled at the cave entrance, fragments of it falling apart and crumbling away into ash.

The Dragon directed its gaze at Harry once more as if to say: _Still think I'm useless?_

Maybe it really was saying that.

Harry's mouth was dry. "Can you understand me?"

Heat radiated from the Dragon. It was still close to Harry. It blinked once. Was that a _yes_? Just when Harry thought he was beginning to imagine things, the Dragon gave the merest of nods.

"Christ…" Harry breathed, "You really can. Do you - uh - do you want to hurt me?"

The Dragon made a sound like a scoff, puffing air through its nostrils and looked up towards the ceiling before giving an unmistakable shake of its head.

Harry frowned. "D-did you just _roll your eyes at me?_ Actually, don't answer that." He carded a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "Well, I'm fucked. How am I supposed to get out of here? I suppose I could accio my broom… but I still don't have a clue what you're doing here. And I don't suppose you can tell me, can you?"

The Dragon inclined its head, blinking innocently at Harry. "I suppose a Dragon that can understand English _and _talk would be a bit of a tall order."

They regarded each other. And now Harry understood the Dragon really was regarding him and not just eyeing him up for a meal. Somehow this new understanding was far more disturbing than the simplicity of being eaten for dinner. It meant Dumbledore was right. It meant something truly unknowable was going on. And, as these things always go, Harry would have to be the one to get to the bottom of it. He sighed.

"Okay, Dragon, I'm going to ask you questions, and you'll answer by either nodding or shaking your head, alright?"

The Dragon narrowed its eyes and gave the tiniest of nods. Perhaps it didn't like being bossed around. Harry didn't care. He wanted to get this sorted as quickly as possible - i.e find out what the hell Malfoy was doing in a Dragon's stomach.

Harry paced, tapping his wand against his chin. The Dragon followed his movements with its huge grey eyes.

"So, how did you get past the wards?" Silence. Harry stopped. "Oh, right. You can't answer. Fuck, I'm tired. Uhh… you _can _get past the wards can't you?"  
A firm nod.  
"Are you an animagus?"

The Dragon shook its head with another eye roll. Harry was beginning to think this Dragon had an attitude problem.

"Are you a spy?"  
A slight hesitation. Another head-shake.

Harry scowled. "I don't believe you."

The Dragon offered a short growl of indignation and shook its head harder. It was such an odd sight, Harry would have laughed if he was certain he would survive this. But any Dragon was dangerous. Even a sentient one… _especially _a sentient one.

"Alright, alright!" He held up a hand. "I guess I'll have to take your word for it… blimey, what a nightmare. Did you break the wards?"

Another shake.  
Harry asked every question about the wards he could possibly think of. The Dragon began to get bored. Harry could tell because it yawned after about ten minutes. The yawn itself was absolutely terrifying because suddenly he was one again faced with knife-like teeth and an open throat which might at any moment decide spew fire at him. But it didn't. Instead it lay back on its haunches and rested its enormous head atop its claws, watching Harry boredly as he pondered question after question.

In the end, Harry relented and sat on the cold damp floor, legs crossed and shivering.

"Dumbledore sent me to look for you." Harry confessed, "I'm not sure what to tell him now."

The Dragon began to growl, low and warning. It leant forward threateningly. Harry couldn't think what he'd said wrong.

He stood, "Woah, hold your horses. What?"  
The Dragon halted, eyes narrowed, a snarl poised.

"Y-you know about Dumbledore?"  
Another growl.

"I'll take that as a yes. Not a fan, clearly."

The Dragon gave an indignant puff, inclining its head away from Harry, and that's when it clicked.

"You… don't want me to tell him I found you?"  
Its eyes met his.

Harry swallowed, unease spreading in his stomach. "This isn't going to be an easy secret to keep, especially if you go flying through the wards every five minutes."  
The Dragon lowered its head. To Harry, it almost seemed sad. He exhaled.

"Right. I won't tell him."

The scowl disappeared from its eyes, and Harry wasn't sure whether to be pleased about that. This was the second time this year he'd agreed to a secret he shouldn't have. And the first had been with Malfoy of all people…

He shook his head. "I still can't believe you ate him…" He muttered.

The Dragon gave no reply. Instead, it padded to the cave entrance, claws scraping along the rock. The ragged entrance belched steam from the cooling rock where the fire had scorched it earlier. In one slow, languid motion, the Dragon lowered its entire body and motioned to Harry with its head.

Its stance, the way it bowed and offered its back, reminded him of Buckbeak.

"You want me to _climb on_?" Harry squawked, resolve dwindling at the prospect of flying on a Dragon's back. Hippogryphs were different. They had feathers. This was just… scales. Scales and ridges. Hardly seemed comfortable, let alone safe. Then again, how else would he get back? If the Dragon had taken him up here, surely it could get him back down… if that was its plan.

The Dragon waited, exuding another grumbling growl that sounded like an impatient sigh when Harry didn't move. Eventually, he walked to the Dragon's side, shadowed under its marquee-sized wing.

"How do I do this?" Asked Harry, tentatively laying a hand on the Dragon's side. He'd expected the scales to be hard and cold. But they weren't. They were like silk under his fingers, warm and pliable. Not at all what he expected. And they shivered under his touch, great bunches of muscle flexing beneath his hand as the Dragon positioned its body towards him to accommodate Harry as he messily clambered onto its back. And he _swore _(although he had bumped his head very hard so he couldn't be sure) that as he did, the Dragon shrunk. Because suddenly it was poking its head out of the cave entrance. Then its neck, and shoulders and even its wings. The freezing air hit Harry like a wall and he clung for dear life to the sharp ridges on the Dragon's back. The sheer force of power beneath him roiled and he felt completely out of control.

"Please don't kill me." Harry uttered as they hung off the precipice of the mountain, so high up that he thought he might be sick.

The Dragon gave a final growl sending vibrations roiling throughout its entire body before falling off the edge into a dive, wings spread, taking Harry with it.

**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading more! I've been very busy with uni which is why it's taken so long to upload, so I hope this makes up for it for a bit :) I'm still looking for a Beta reader! Hmu if you're interested! Thanks again and please leave a review ^_^


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